A Bond in the Dark
by missblushingwitch
Summary: Hope Mikaelson sacrificed everything to save the people she loves; she took the ultimate leap of faith diving into Malivore. Now she was all alone, forgotten, and without a plan. Well, not entirely alone...taking Ryan Clarke with her was a bit of an impulsive move. And now she's stuck with him...and something weird is going on between them.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"The banshee also is a predictor of death. If someone is about to enter a situation where it is unlikely they will come out of alive she will warn people by screaming or wailing, giving rise to a banshee also being known as a wailing woman."

(Hope)

Everything hurt.

The ground was surprisingly hard beneath her, at least harder than she anticipated when she made the decision to jump into a seething, black pit of goo. She checked for injuries, finding herself relatively unscathed after such a long fall. Odd.

Stranger yet, she found no trace of the inky sludge on her body or clothes.

She quickly took stock of her surroundings—everything was shrouded in a misty, black fog. It was as if she was looking at everything from beneath a black veil. The rocky ground beneath her was solid enough, but the landscape in the distance shimmered strangely, like a distant mirage. She could make out the skeletal shape of trees and some rock formations in the distance—but everything remained ominously dark and hazy.

How was she ever going to explain this to Landon?

Only minutes before, they had finally reunited and cleared the air between them. She finally told him she loved him—and better yet, he felt the same. She finally opened herself up to being vulnerable and the universe rewarded her for what—ten minutes?

Wonderful.

Groaning, she pushed herself up onto her knees. If this was Malivore, then everyone at home had already forgotten about her. She was truly and utterly alone. There would be no one left on Earth who remembered Hope Mikaelson.

Maybe that's how it should be.

"Erggghhh—" The sound of a male groan brought her instantly back to the present.

Crap.

The weight of throwing herself into oblivion had almost made her forget the fact that she hadn't come here alone.

Agent Clarke was sprawled out on the ground next to her—his back was rigid, fists clenched, breathing in sharp gasps… His indignation was practically palpable.

"When I said I would be rooting for you, I didn't mean I'd be joining you on your little suicide mission!" Agent Clarke spat.

He was now standing over her, his pale face practically glowing in the inky darkness.

"Yeah, well we don't always get what we want," she quipped back at him.

Honestly, she wasn't entirely sure why she had forced him to come along in the first place. She guessed she preferred having him here where she could keep an eye on him. Plus, he was the only person besides Landon who knew anything about this forbidding hell scape.

Landon. Her heart hurt just thinking about how she left him on the floor of Triad, alone and helpless.

Please, Dr. Saltzman, get to him quickly.

"I don't know what you think you're going to gain by bringing me along on this little misadventure," Clarke continued, "But I'm sure as hell not going to help you find my father. If he thinks I'm working with you, he'll destroy me."

"Doesn't seem like my problem," she bit out.

If she was being entirely honest with herself, she was enjoying herself just a little. When she had forced Agent Clarke over the edge of the railing, it made her feel in control of an impossible situation—and she liked feeling in control.

If she could use this man as a means to an end and make him suffer a little in the meantime, she saw no downside.

"You're here to help me defeat Malivore and put the damn universe back in order," she said as she drew herself up to her full height—frustratingly, still significantly shorter than the lanky man before her.

Agent Clarke squinted his dark eyes at her, "You're going to regret this. My father is much more powerful than you realize, little witch." His smile sent a chill down her spine, but she wasn't about to show him any fear.

"Oh, I'm more than just a witch, don't you know?" she asked sweetly, "I'm the cursed tri-brid. The heir of Klaus Mikaelson himself—I'm sure you've heard of me." She batted her eyelashes a few times for effect.

Whether he knew everything or nothing about her, she couldn't tell. He just remained smiling. There was something about that smile that made her feel like he was looking straight into her soul… it was disturbing.

"Tell me how to find Malivore," she said.

"Now, why would I do that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You may think that my declaration of indifference about my father's fate meant I would be willing to help you. Well, I don't make a habit of helping anyone but myself."

"Exactly," she said. "Helping me defeat Malivore helps everyone—that includes you."

He laughed humorlessly, running a hand down his face in frustration.

"You're wrong. No matter which way this goes, I'm screwed. My father is crueler than you can imagine," he said, stepping closer to her.

"If he finds out that I assisted you, I'll be punished. Severely. And if you're somehow any match against him, am I to expect you'll just send me on my merry way?"

He had a point. She knew that even if they managed to get out of here alive, she couldn't just let him go free. He had already proven himself to be too unpredictable, too much of a wildcard. For now, she had no choice but to hope he'd let something useful slip.

"Fine, let's go," she said with purpose, deliberately marching forward, praying the mimic spell would hold out for a while longer.

Stiffly, he followed her lead, his smirk replaced by a clenched jaw.

Good.

The rhythmic crunching of the gravelly ground beneath her shoes jangled her nerves. She had no idea where she was going but moving was better than waiting for something to come crawling out of the shadows.

"I thought Malivore was supposed to be nothingness," she said, sparing a quick glance to Clarke as he trudged beside her.

"It seems Malivore is changing," he said, jaw still tense. "When we threw in the last key, it began to open—It reflects the monsters that were held here."

"Care to elaborate a little more?" she asked.

"I thought you were supposed to be bright?" he mocked. "You're the Salvatore School's little prodigy, are you not?" The smirk returned to his face.

God, he was pissing her off.

"Fine. Keep being unhelpful," she countered, rolling her eyes. "But we're probably not getting out of here alive, so you might as well tell me something useful."

"Doesn't seem like my problem," he said, throwing her words back at her.

She should have known from their first meeting in Kansas that he was going to be a major pain in her ass. Too bad he was Landon's brother, or she would have considered leaving him here to rot.

They had only been walking about half an hour when a strange wailing sound pierced the darkness. She stopped dead in her tracks. She felt magic in her fingertips, warm, electric and comforting. Agent Clarke had stopped as well, compelled to follow her lead. His shoulders were tense, and she detected a slight wobble in his throat.

"Scared?" she hissed at him as her eyes darted across the misty tree line. Something was out there, but everything in Malivore felt wrong—it was hard to tell whether she saw something moving or if it was just this dimension's strange landscape playing tricks on her.

"Be quiet," he shot back. He was scanning the tree line too, but she could tell his senses were as useless as hers. The wailing continued, seemingly from everywhere and nowhere all at once. She tightened her fists, feeling her nails bite into her palms.

Suddenly, there was movement behind them—she spun around with her hands out, ready to defend herself with magic—

"Resistus maledi!"

But there was nothing there… A sharp laugh escaped her before she could stop it.

Keep it together, Hope. Now is not the time to lose your cool.

She could tell Clarke was just as rattled… and he was definitely sweating. "Get behind me!" he commanded.

Like Hell.

"Why would I do that?" she asked, hands jumping to her hips.

"Get back to back—we need to see what direction it's coming from," he barked.

She hesitated.

"Hope!"

Fine.

She moved behind him and they began to circle slowly, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. The wailing continued, causing them to draw in closer to one another. Abruptly, she bumped into him as they moved. His back was surprisingly solid against hers. For such a wiry man, she had assumed he wouldn't have much in the way of muscles.

Guess she was wrong.

"Do you know what's out there?" she asked, trying to hide the fact that she was definitely freaked out.

"No," he replied tightly. She could tell he wasn't the kind of person who liked surprises.

Well, neither did she.

The wailing continued, sharp and keen. Every cell in her my body vibrated along with the sound, her panic mounting by the second. Just when she thought she couldn't possibly take it a moment longer, the offending noise abruptly ceased.

The silence was deafening. The only sound was their own breathing, which had somehow synced in their close proximity.

In. Out. In. Out. In—

She didn't dare move, and neither did he.

"Is it gone?" she finally asked, now pressed firmly against his back.

"I don't know," he returned. "But I don't think we should stick around to find out."

Agreed.

She finally budged forward; her back feeling immediately chilled where it had been pressed against his. Somehow, the absence of contact made her feel uneasy, despite its source. The suddenness and intensity of the feeling caught her off guard. All she wanted to do was reach out again…

Something must have showed on her face because Clarke said, "It's the nature of Malivore. It's a place where you go to be forgotten. Making physical contact with another being seems to ease the loneliness."

His tone was soft, but not necessarily kind. His eyes met hers, dark, searching, and more than a little calculating.

"Keep moving," was all she managed in reply, breaking eye contact. Her heart was still pounding in anticipation of a fight.

The longer she stayed here, the worse things were going to get. She might as well do what she came here to do.

Or die trying.

Agent Clarke followed her, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She shot him a withering look, which he cheerfully ignored.

She may have made a huge mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**(Ryan)**

Well, shit.

He had no idea how he let himself get caught up in this situation. He always prided himself on his ability to stay one step ahead of other people. Getting Seylah's file from under Triad's nose? Easy. Getting that foster family to reveal Landon's location? Simple. Thwarting Saltzman's attempt to keep the urn? Child's play.

He clenched his jaw in frustration. How could he have allowed this to happen?

Being dragged to Malivore by Hope Mikaelson was most certainly not part of his plan.

He had to admit— Hope was a force to be reckoned with. He had watched her fight the Headless Horseman back at Triad. She matched his strikes blow by blow as Landon watched from below. She was obviously well-trained in physical combat and was an equally talented spellcaster, if not slightly reckless.

Yes, she may be young, but she was clearly more than capable of holding her own. More than that, she was clever. He almost had to admire her ability to strategize; bringing him along gave her the best possible chance of locating Malivore, Father.

The only other person who may have been able to guide her to him would be Landon, who she was apparently dating. He supposed she considered it too much of a risk to bring him along. He could see why she liked him, he was charming, bordering on obnoxious in his opinion, but he was obviously extremely loyal.

Too loyal to know what was good for him.

It's a shame he wouldn't remember her noble sacrifice when he resurrected. In fact, Landon would have no memory of Hope Mikaelson at all. He smirked at the thought.

Too bad, little brother.

Perhaps it was a kindness to him in the long run; this young woman had a certain sense of darkness about her. He recalled the way she had manipulated his will with her magic; she wasn't lying when she said she was enjoying herself.

His mind drifted back to the day's earlier events—

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, gesturing to the pit below.

"I assumed you were gonna try to stop me," she said, approaching him with interest.

"Hell no. I was only trying to raise my father because I'm terrified of him, and I knew he'd find a way out someday," he said. He wasn't lying.

"But if you're right about this loophole can actually kill the bastard once and for all, be my guest," he offered. "And if you're wrong, well, no harm done because you'll be dead."

"So, go on... I'll be rooting for you," he finished with a smile.

If she really intended on following through with this plan, she would have one hell of a fight on her hands. Regardless of what happened, he would be laying low until the dust settled.

"That's not all you'll be doing," she said, giving him a smile of her own. She was close—too close.

"Imitantor Pupulus," she said, moving her hands confidently with her words.

A moment passed, but he didn't feel anything—he let out a laugh.

"Whatever you think you just did didn't work—" Suddenly, his hand flew to cover his mouth, cutting off his words. The movement mirrored her own as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Panic struck him.

"How'd you do that…? Why did I do that?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"It's a basic mimic spell," she said, clearly pleased with herself. "We learned it in second grade."

She stepped closer to him, eagerness shining in her eyes. He was reminded of a predator stalking its prey.

"Also, in second grade…Follow the Leader," she continued, reaching out to place her hand around his throat while he helplessly returned the gesture.

"You don't have to do this," he said. He could not allow this to happen.

"I know. But it's the only part I'm actually enjoying," she said with a smile. Her hand tightened on his throat, seemingly unconcerned that he was forced to mimic the action.

"Too bad you're so clumsy," she mocked as they climbed onto the railing. He tried to resist the force pulling at his limbs with invisible strings, but it was no use, her magic wound its way around him, cold and unyielding like a snake.

A heartbeat later she let gravity take over and the two plunged towards the inky pool below.

She smiled the entire way down.

Pulling himself from his memories, he spared a quick glance to his left where Hope was moving along at a determined pace. They had been walking for about an hour since their encounter with the unseen, wailing creature.

What he hadn't told her was that he was fairly certain they had just encountered the Irish spirit known as the banshee. The creature only makes its presence known when someone was about to die, heralding their fate with her otherworldly screams.

He could feel the last effects of the mimic spell fading away. He knew she must be aware as well, but since he had yet to formulate a plan of his own, he followed her lead.

"What Landon told me…" she started. "Is it true that you're the reason Triad Industries was created? You're the one who betrayed Malivore?" she asked.

"I see Landon's already passing on family stories," he replied. He hadn't regained awareness in time to hear all of what he had told her.

"Is that a yes?" she asked, eyes darting up to his.

"Yes," he answered.

"Why?" she asked.

He sighed. As much as he enjoyed laying his personal history bare before snarky teenagers, he was most certainly not in the mood.

"I'm sure you wouldn't begin to understand my reasons," he said.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," she said. "I've got a complicated family history too."

He knew the name Mikaelson; they had a rather notorious reputation. Klaus Mikaelson had once been a scourge upon the Earth, laying waste to entire villages if the mood suited him. The rest that he knew about the family was knowledge he had acquired more recently—specifically after crossing paths with Hope, the legendary tri-brid.

"Yes, your family is quite the sensation within the supernatural community," he replied.

He could tell she was trying to figure out how much he knew about her, but he wasn't willing to tip his hand.

He had not been gifted with his father's abilities; he didn't possess superior strength or senses like a werewolf or vampire, and no magic ran through his veins. His father had left him to wander the earth with nothing but his wits, so that is what he sharpened into a weapon.

To his surprise, she began to laugh.

Interesting.

"Yeah, my family has never shied away from the spotlight," she said, reaching for the pendant around her neck—a seemingly unconscious gesture.

"I suppose falling for Landon was the only logical choice for me," she mused. "I had to find someone with a family as messed up as mine."

He wasn't sure what to say. He held no deep affection for Landon; he was, until recently, a complete stranger to him. Moreover, he knew that once Malivore took control of him, the Landon she knew would cease to exist.

Just another creation to serve his will.

"What exactly is your plan?" he asked. "How do you see this playing out?"

"I'm still working on that," she said, seemingly undaunted.

This kept getting worse. Her impulsiveness and hero-complex were in direct opposition to his own calculating nature.

There is no way this was going to end well for either of them— and he didn't need a banshee to tell him that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**(Hope)**

**"In mythology, ogres are often depicted as inhumanly large and tall and having a disproportionately large head, abundant hair, unusually colored skin, a voracious appetite, and a strong body. Ogres are closely linked with giants and with human cannibals in mythology."**

Staying out in the open made her nervous—she hadn't been able to shake the feeling of being watched since their encounter with the wailing phantom. So, when they finally reached a patch of forest, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Granted, the woods weren't particularly welcoming; the trees were dark and gnarled, their twisted branches crowned by dark swaths of leaves. It looked like something out of a children's fairytale. Indeed, she was reminded of the dark forest from Snow White, which she had watched with her Aunt Rebekah as a child.

She remembered asking why the witch was the villain of the story—the memory was bittersweet. She learned a long time ago that the world was neither black nor white, but a kaleidoscope of grey.

With her history, grey was the best she could ever hope to be.

Since Clarke still wasn't volunteering his assistance in locating Malivore, she decided to head towards the strange rock formations in the distance. When they had first arrived, they had seemed like a strange mirage, but the closer they got the more closely they resembled a misshapen castle—it completely dominated the landscape.

At least the woods seemed to run parallel to the most direct path—a small blessing in this forbidding landscape.

She began making her way towards the tree cover, praying that the benefits outweighed whatever could be lurking within in the woods.

Apparently, Agent Clarke wasn't on the same page—he had stopped a few paces behind her.

"I'm not following you in there," he said, a resolute expression on his face.

"Yes, you are," she said. "It's almost night, and I'm not making camp out here where we'd be sitting ducks."

It was true, the gloom of Malivore upon their arrival was nothing compared to the current sky. There was no sun to set on the horizon, just the steady blackening of the world around them. No moon, no stars, just a cloak of darkness.

He just stared at her, jaw clenched and posture rigid.

"Look," she sighed. "I don't like you, and you certainly don't like me, but there's safety in numbers."

"Why ask at all?" he asked. "Not up for a little more puppeteering?" His dark eyes narrowed at her.

"No," she said. If she was going to get him to reveal any information, she needed to get him to trust her. Or at least get comfortable enough to let something slip.

"How considerate of you," he said, skepticism clouding his features.

This was ridiculous, he was just being stubborn, and she so didn't have time for this.

"Come on," she said, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder to guide him forward. She suddenly felt a burning heat in her palm, not unlike when she was using magic, but there was something else too—loneliness.

The emotion slammed into her with surprising force, the feeling of emptiness threatening to swallow her whole. It was as alien as it was sudden, this feeling wasn't hers.

She dropped her hand and took a hasty step back. Agent Clarke's eyes had gone wide, looking from his shoulder to her and back again. "What did you do?" he asked.

"I didn't do anything!" she insisted. She hadn't—had she?

"I felt…something," he said.

"You felt the heat too?" she asked, flushing slightly at her choice of words.

To his credit, Clarke didn't seem to notice. "Not that, something else…" he said, taking a step closer.

"Should we…try that again?" he asked, reaching out a tentative hand.

"No!" she answered, more forcefully than she intended. Truthfully, all she wanted to do was reach out again. The compulsion was as strong as it was bewildering. She was reminded of the strange feeling she experienced when they had been back to back.

Oh, God, what was this place doing to her?

"Okay," he said quietly, dropping his hand to his side.

"Please, just come with me," she said.

"Okay," he said again, all trace of resistance gone.

She spun on her heel, taking a steadying breath. This is just some weird side effect of this dimension.

She ducked under a low hanging branch as she made her way into the woods—Clarke followed closely behind; she could feel his eyes on her, but thankfully he remained quiet.

The canopy above made their surroundings even darker as they made their way deeper into the forest. The undergrowth was dense—her pants were covered in burrs and her ankles stung with irritating scratches. Unfortunately, the unhospitable terrain meant that they weren't making much progress.

It wouldn't be long before they would be forced to stop and get some rest, but she was already concerned that too much time had passed since their arrival. Back at Triad, Malivore's return had seemed imminent.

She saw that horrifically contorted face emerging from the pit every time she closed her eyes. A silent scream compelling her to continue pushing forward.

Should she take any comfort in the fact that they still remained in this realm? Or would this place continue to exist even once Malivore escaped? The uncertainty was tying her stomach in knots.

"We should make camp soon," Clarke said, distracting her from her thoughts.

"Yeah," she said.

"Here is probably as good as anywhere," he said, gesturing to a small patch of ground at the base of one of the dark trees.

"Fine," she said. She wished she had a bag with supplies, or anything besides the clothes on her back. When she jumped into Malivore she didn't expect a wilderness hike.

Clarke sat at the base of the tree, leaning against its trunk; she followed his example and sat against the tree across from him. They sat that way for a moment, just starring at one another.

"I'll take the first shift," he said. "Go ahead and get some sleep, I'll keep watch."

"Nice try," she said. "I know the second I let you out of my sight you'll be gone."

He smiled—a crooked sort of thing. "Maybe… Maybe not," he said.

Hope took a deep breath and stretched her hands out to either side—she envisioned her magic rippling around them, like concentric circles on the surface of water.

"All done," she said.

"What now?" he asked, eyeing her warily.

"Just a little barrier spell," she said. "You have about a twenty-foot radius before you'll find yourself stuck."

She knew she needed to earn his trust, but there was no way she was risking him finding Malivore without her. As much as she hated to admit it, she also didn't want to be left alone.

While she was certain Clarke wasn't pleased with her, he was doing his best not to show it.

"Goodnight, Hope," he said neutrally, adjusting his position to face the surrounding trees.

She laid down on her side, using her arm as a pillow. The ground was slightly damp beneath her and she could feel several stones cutting into her side. However, it wasn't the physical discomfort that bothered her, she was much more concerned with letting her guard down.

Every part of her body railed against falling asleep in such a compromising situation—she had no idea what was lurking in the woods and there was no guarantee Agent Clarke wouldn't try to kill her himself.

Fortunately, she had cast another spell earlier, just a little alarm bell of sorts that would alert her if Clarke tried to do her harm. She fingered the piece of thread she had tied around her finger—it had come from Clarke's jacket when she touched him earlier—it would tighten in warning if she was in imminent danger from him.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

With that thought, she felt exhaustion overtaking her—a few minutes later she was pulled into a dreamless sleep.

Hope awoke to the sound of branches breaking. She jumped to her feet, temporarily disoriented by her new surroundings. Dark trees stretching out in every direction with shadowy branches overhead.

Right, this is Malivore—Wait, where the hell was Agent Clarke?

"Clarke?" she called into the darkness. She had no idea how long she had been sleeping but the forest was still as dark as ever. He was nowhere in sight.

Crap.

She spared a glance down at the piece of thread around her finger, it was still comfortably tied. So, he wasn't waiting to ambush her, at least.

The sound of more branches snapping alerted her that whatever was happening wasn't far away. She proceeded cautiously towards the sound, taking care to keep her footsteps as quiet as possible.

Then she saw it—some kind of monster moved into view from behind a patch of trees. The creature was hideous; it was basically human shaped, but much taller and broader than an ordinary man. The creature had bumpy grey skin and an abnormally large head covered with coarse hair.

And oh, the smell—it was a putrid combination of swamp gas and rotting meat. She fought down a gag, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth.

The monster was currently vigorously shaking a tree, causing the trunk to make an ominous cracking sound.

"KILL! EAT!" the monster shouted. "I WILL CHEW YOUR BONES!" it cried towards the sky.

Hope followed its line of vision upwards, only to find Agent Clarke perched among the branches of the tree.

Oh, hell.

Suddenly, Clarke looked down and caught her eye.

"Remove the boundary spell!" he called. The creature quickly turned its attention from the treetop to her hiding place.

Thanks a lot, moron.

"I have a plan, just—" he began, but was cut off as the tree swayed violently.

"MORE FOOD!" the creature yelled, as it let go of the trunk and began to make its way towards her. "KILL TREE MAN LATER," it said.

"Hope!" Clarke called again, "Please remove the spell, I know what to do!"

There was no other choice.

She stretched out her arms and sent out her intention—the circles are breaking; the circles are broken.

Agent Clarke shimmied his way down through the branches with surprising ease. Once he hit the ground, he picked up a stone and threw it at the creature's large back.

"Hey, dumbass!" he called. "Don't forget about me!"

The creature turned in anger, rubbing the spot where the stone had struck him. "YOU DIE NOW!" the creature bellowed.

Then Clarke turned and ran. He skillfully made his way through the forest, but the creature was close behind, thanks to the sheer size of its stride.

She followed the pair, unwilling to let Clarke out of her sight.

The creature was relentless as it crashed its way through the forest with terrifying strength—trees were snapped like twigs and its footfalls left craters in its wake.

What the hell was his plan?

Suddenly, Clarke made a sharp right, the creature, unable to slow its momentum, careened forward—straight into a huge, rocky pit. The sound it made was deafening, a horrible roaring followed by the sound of cascading boulders.

Hope stopped short, grabbing a tree to steady herself—Holy crap, he did it!

There was no way anything could survive that fall.

Agent Clarke was clearly winded but smiling—genuinely smiling.

He actually looked like he was having fun.

"How did you know that was there?" she asked.

"I saw it when I climbed the tree," he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "I knew if I could get that ogre riled up enough to chase me, it would be too distracted to pay attention to its surroundings."

So, it was an ogre…

"That was…actually pretty impressive," she said finally.

He smirked. "I know," he said, giving a little bow.

She couldn't help but let out a laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**(Ryan)**

After taking on that ogre the night before he was exhausted. Fortunately, ogres were as stupid as they were strong, and he was able to trap it without too much trouble.

Hope had insisted that he rest before they continued moving and he had reluctantly taken her up on her offer. He had fallen into a fitful sleep against a tree while she kept watch. The next morning, they began walking again without a word between them. Their shared moment of camaraderie had been short lived.

Surprisingly, she had been less pushy with her questions—But if she thought he was going to just start chatting about Father, she was sadly mistaken.

He had yet to come up with a plan of his own and it was making him tense—and distracted. At least, that's how he liked to explain the quicksand taking them by surprise.

Hope reacted first, letting out a startled yelp when the ground beneath her began to give way.

"What the hell?" she cried, trying in vain to free her foot from the muck below.

The color of the substance should have been his first clue; the terrain beneath them had been endless shades of charcoal, dull like the scenery around them. Yet, this patch of ground was somehow blacker than black, darker than dark…Dark like Malivore.

"Stop struggling!" he tried to warn her—too late. Hope was already up to her knees. She grunted in frustration; honestly, he should just turn around and leave her. He'd find his own way out of here.

But before he could act on his impulse, he felt the earth begin to sink beneath his own feet.

Shit.

He knew panicking would only make it worse, but the desire to struggle against the sand's pull was strong. He looked for something to grab onto, but every branch was already hopelessly out of reach.

"Clarke!" Hope yelled, searching for him over her shoulder, clearly gripped by panic. Her large eyes were frantic, and a slick sheen of sweat had broken out across her forehead. "Something's wrong, I can't access my magic!"

"I'm stuck too," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Suddenly, the pace of his sinking began to accelerate, and he found himself quickly up to his neck in the wet, dark sand.

"Hope—" he tried to call out, but his words were cut off by his total immersion. He gasped for air on instinct and strangely found himself able to breathe. He opened his eyes to find that he was suspended in a dark abyss, with no discernable features in sight.

"Hello?" he ventured, straining his eyes in the total darkness. The sense of weightlessness was unnerving. The sense of powerlessness was worse.

He was suddenly reliving his last experience here—the darkness, the isolation, the misery. It was frequently the landscape of his nightmares, but this was all too real.

Please, not again.

His panic began building to a crescendo; his heart felt like a hammer in his chest pounding out a desperate and uneven rhythm.

"It's been a long time, my creation," came a voice out of the void. Father.

"I'm here," he managed to reply, trying to keep his tone neutral. If he played this right, he would find himself on the right side of control again soon.

"You have opened the locks to my prison, yet you come here before I am able to fully reform," he paused.

"What is your purpose?" The voice rebounded around him in thundering echoes.

"I'm here to bring you news; I have located your perfect creation, the child you sired while in this dimension," he replied. He hoped his voice conveyed confidence despite his panic.

"The girl?" he asked.

He paused, momentarily confused. He meant Hope.

"No, she is not your creation; you have a son. His name is Landon, on the other side," he answered.

"Yet, her energy is strangely familiar…" he mused. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Hope Mikaelson. She is a tribrid, the only one of her kind to be born of wolf, vampire, and witch blood."

"Another creation of three…Interesting," the voice replied. "What is your plan for bringing her here?"

His heart lurched in his chest; he couldn't let his father find out that Hope was the one who had forced him here. He had to think of something—and quickly.

Best to go with something close to the truth.

"I manipulated her into coming," he lied swiftly. "She wants to destroy you; she believes that with her abilities she can—she considers herself a loophole to your power."

He heard the voice scoff in the darkness.

"I let her believe she has taken me prisoner," he continued. "But here in your realm, you can strike her down first; there will be no one left to stand in our way," he finished.

Whether or not he believed him, he was uncertain. It had been a long time since he had directly communicated with his father. He had allowed him some freedom to search for the keys to atone for his actions, but the memory of his betrayal still hung heavy between them. He was unsure how much he would ever trust him again.

"If what you say is true," he finally answered, "Bring this Hope Mikaelson to me…alive."

This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. If he was able to regain control of this situation, he may just escape this hell dimension after all. "Yes, Father," he replied.

"Do not disappoint me," came the answer, loud enough that he felt the words vibrating in his chest.

In the blink of an eye, he was back at the surface—and on solid ground. He was covered from head to toe in muck, but otherwise unharmed. The reunion with his father had gone much better than expected. Of course, he would have preferred to meet him under his own volition, when he had a chance to strategize beforehand.

Details could be worked out later.

He looked for Hope finding her up to her chin in the sand, pure fire burning in her eyes. It appeared that she had progressed from fear to anger.

The juxtaposition of her expression with her predicament was amusing. He found himself smiling at the sight, holding back a laugh.

Suddenly, her eyes met his— "What the living hell, Clarke?" she demanded, only to lose a few more inches.

She thrashed and sputtered, but a heartbeat later she had vanished completely beneath the sand; a few bubbles at the surface were the only sign that she'd ever been there at all.

He swore under his breath.

Well, his suit was already ruined.

**(Hope)**

If she was going to be taken out by a puddle of mud, she would have much preferred it to be the one she jumped into heroically, not the one she stumbled into like an idiot.

Agent Clarke had disappeared just moments ago, leaving her alone in her plight. How a six-foot something man had slipped beneath the surface before her, she couldn't fathom.

Maybe it was his heart of stone.

She reached out again for her magic, beseeching her ancestors to help her reach it, but it was no use. There was something about this sand that acted as an insulator, keeping her power contained. She could feel it deep inside her, hot, pulsing, and yearning to help—but trapped. The pressure of it building was bordering on painful; it felt as if she may explode at any moment.

She wished she could.

She was so angry; this was not supposed to be how it ended. Even if she had no one to come home to, she still had a world to save. Everyone was counting on her, even if they didn't remember that they were.

She had finally found her purpose. She wasn't just some cosmic mistake…the reason her parents were dead—she could do something for the world. She could do something good.

She let out a scream of frustration, but the woods paid no mind. She couldn't hold out much longer. She had no idea what would happen to Clarke if he resurrected—would he eventually be able to pull himself from the sand? Or suffer a fate worse than death? She had no idea.

The weight of having potentially caused another death was already weighing heavy on her heart. Asshole that he was, she made him her responsibility by dragging him here.

Suddenly, she sensed movement over her shoulder. She strained her neck only to find Agent Clarke watching her. He was standing on solid ground, covered head to toe in black sludge, and— smiling.

"What the living hell, Clarke?" she shouted at him. How could he have possibly gotten free so easily? The bastard even had the nerve to smile about it.

Before she could process anything further, she felt herself sinking again. For the briefest of moments, she saw his smile slip, but an instant later she was completely engulfed in darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**(Ryan)**

Time was of the essence now—if he didn't get to Hope soon, he was sure she would drown. She wasn't born of this place—she wouldn't connect with Malivore as he had. Her peril was very real.

He kicked off his shoes, yanked off his jacket, and pulled his, utterly ruined, dress shirt up over his head.

He tied the sleeve of his shirt hastily around the lowest hanging branch he could find and pulled it tight. He waded into the sand, reaching blindly in front of him. He knew this was the spot, but he felt nothing.

Maybe he was too late.

He continued his search, reaching father and farther into the pit's center. Finally, he felt something solid—Hope.

He reached above him to grab the shirt's dangling sleeve and pulled up on the limp form from beneath the sand. He felt his muscles strain as he pulled Hope's body up above the surface. He put all his remaining strength into pulling on his makeshift lifeline.

His knuckles were white, and his arm was shaking; the pull of the sand was relentless and for a terrible moment he feared he may not be strong enough to pull them both out.

He looked down at Hope's unconscious form; he cradled her in one arm, barely able to keep her head from lolling back into the sand. The arm that held her against him was burning hot.

It was the same feeling he had experienced earlier, when she had inadvertently pressed her back against his—and then again when she touched his shoulder. He could tell that the sensations had unsettled her, but he couldn't help but be fascinated.

The domain of Malivore had changed so much since his last time here…the utter darkness and isolation had been replaced with a strange world, seemingly shaped by the thoughts, fears, and desires of the monsters that lurked here.

Throwing open the locks had changed this place in ways he had never anticipated.

He finally felt rock beneath his feet—he hauled Hope forward first, rolling her onto solid ground. He pulled himself out next, panting with effort. He dragged himself to her side and felt her neck for a pulse—it was there, fluttering weakly against his fingertips.

"Someone…help…" The thought came to him unbidden.

"Hope!" he called, shaking her unconscious form. Shit. Shit. Shit. He didn't know why his father asked him to bring her to him alive, but chances are there would be hefty consequences if he didn't obey.

He brought his head down to her chest and listened for her breathing. Nothing. He would have to try resuscitating her himself.

She seemed much smaller like this, without that fiery personality she wielded as a weapon. She was almost delicate—her long lashes stood out against her cheeks, even under a layer of muck. Putting his mind back to the task at hand, he brought his face down to hers.

Please, wake up.

**(Hope)**

She awoke with a start, coughing and disoriented. Agent Clarke was leaning over her, still covered in the sludgy sand, and suspiciously missing his shirt. His face was colored with surprise, despite the fact that he was the one looming over her.

"What happened?" she choked out; she could feel the grit of sand in her throat. It burned.

"I pulled you out of the pit," he replied, still looking bewildered. "Which is an ironic twist of fate considering I'm only in this mess because you pulled me into one."

She glared at him, even though she knew she should be grateful. Emma always said her eyes betrayed her during their guidance sessions. No matter how high she built her walls, she couldn't seem to keep her soul from leaking out.

"Look, I just saved your life. The least you can do is thank me," he said with a grin. The same stupid grin he had worn when he was bullshitting Dr. Saltzman and her in Kansas.

Gas company employee, my ass.

"I don't trust you," she said, looking him dead in the eyes.

She didn't know why he saved her, but she knew it wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. He had made it clear before she dragged him into Malivore that he would be all too happy to let her die here.

His smile remained in place, but she could detect a tenseness in his jaw.

Someone definitely has a tell.

"That's a wise decision, I am an excellent liar," he said as he backed away from her to retrieve his discarded items of clothing. While his back was turned, she pushed down the intense desire to reach out for him.

Wait, what?

It was the same feeling as before, during their encounter with the wailing phantom and again when they entered the forest, but this was much worse. He had said it was because Malivore made you crave the contact of another being, but this was just too weird.

Would the universe ever tire of screwing with Hope Mikaelson?

"Of course, it takes one to know one. Right, Jessica?" he asked, facing her once more.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"A liar," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Did the sludge find its way into your brain?" he asked.

Jerk.

"How did you escape?" she asked. There's no way that he should have been able to find his way out of the pit without help of some kind.

"That's a secret," he replied, giving her a wink. Ugh.

"You do realize that makes me trust you even less, right?" she asked, trying in vain to wipe the rapidly drying mud from her skin.

"You shouldn't trust me, Hope," he said, suddenly serious.

Something about the way he was staring made her feel strangely vulnerable. She couldn't forget that this man was still an immortal, much older and shrewder than she was likely giving him credit for.

"Well, I'm glad we're in agreement," she said, still a bit uneasy with his change in tone.

He smiled in response, but it didn't reach his eyes. She guessed he had slipped back into that weird mask he liked to wear. Creepy.

"We need to find somewhere to wash off this mud," she said. She still felt like her magic was being suppressed; it flickered oddly inside her, like an improperly tuned radio station.

"You were here before; do you remember anything about this place?" she asked.

"I was never here—not like this," he said, his whole face darkening as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. "It was only blackness before… complete isolation."

She remembered what she had learned about Malivore from Seylah; it sounded horrific.

How long had he been trapped here?

"Well, I guess we should just start walking again," she said. "Unless, I need to use another spell?" she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Save your energy—I currently have nowhere else to be," he said, walking up the path.

Alrighty then.


	6. Chapter 6

**(Hope)**

**Uncegila**

**Uncegila was a mighty water snake in Native American (Lakota) mythology. She polluted rivers and subsequently flooded the land with salt water so nothing could grow. According to myth, twins that hit the only fragile spot on her body eventually killed her.**

The mud was everywhere—her hair was a knotted, tangled mess and her skin was itchy from where it still clung to her in dry patches.

Even worse, her magic still felt stifled—she needed to find somewhere to wash off, and quickly.

"Do you think there's a water source around here?" she asked him.

"Maybe," he answered with a shrug. He had been acting strangely since he had saved her from the pit. One minute he was being a sarcastic ass and the next he was freezing her out.

His moods were giving her whiplash.

"I'm going to do a water locator spell," she said.

He nodded in acknowledgement, leaning against a nearby tree. "How long will it take?" he asked.

"Not long, I just need to concentrate for a minute," she said as she sat herself cross legged on the forest floor. She steadied her breathing and closed her eyes.

She reached out with her magic, envisioning the element of water.

Flowing, purifying, clear…

It wasn't working—normally, she could connect with the elements around her easily, finding water shouldn't have been a difficult task.

Hope couldn't tell if it was the mud still blocking her magic or if it was the strangeness of Malivore itself.

Still, connecting with the elements shouldn't require much energy at all, even if her powers were being dampened.

"I don't know what's wrong," she said. "Normally, I can connect with the elements easily—it's one of the first things we learn in school."

"Along with how to manipulate people?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Well, at least he's back to his sarcastic self.

"I need something to focus my energy," she said. "I don't know if it's this muck making me weak, or if this dimension is too foreign to connect with."

He crouched beside her, holding out a hand. "Here," he said.

She eyed him wearily, "What exactly are you offering?" she asked.

"Whatever you need," he said quietly. "If you need my energy, take it. If you need my blood you can take that too. I'm connected to this place in ways you aren't—maybe I can help."

Now this was unexpected. She wasn't sure what to make of his offer. He had given her nothing but a bad attitude since they arrived… And yet, he had still saved her life… twice.

"Why the sudden willingness to help?" she asked.

"I'd like to wash my suit," he said.

"You're joking."

"Not at all, it was a very expensive suit," he said straight-faced.

"Nice to know Triad pays its goons well," she replied, rolling her eyes.

His jaw clenched—he grabbed a nearby rock and dragged its edge across his palm. He held it out again, a small trickle of blood running down his wrist. The color was darker than regular human blood, it was closer to rust than scarlet… it seemed thicker too.

"Let's make a deal, I help on your quest to find Malivore, and you let me go free." His eyes were intently focused on hers.

"You'll help me destroy him?" she asked, skeptical.

"No. I'll help you get to him, nothing more," he said, his hand still suspended between them.

She didn't trust him.

Plus, she didn't want to risk touching him again—the strange feelings it stirred up seemed to intensify after each incident.

However, if he was offering her some of his blood, she may be able to track Malivore. Whether he realized that implication, she wasn't sure.

Was it worth the risk?

She already suspected that Malivore was lurking among the strange rock formations, but the cliffs were massive. It could take days, or weeks, to search them.

Time was not something she had to spare.

"Okay," she said hesitantly, placing her hand in his. His skin was warm against hers and quickly began to grow hotter.

Here we go again.

His eyes shone with excitement when they met hers—she realized he had wanted this to happen. If he expected to get something out of this, then so did she.

Focus.

Hope closed her eyes and focused on water...

Her mind was rapidly flooded with images; she felt her spirit extend beyond her body, floating light and free towards the sound of water—there. She saw a river not far to their west, the water called to her.

Suddenly, she wasn't alone—she could feel Clarke's presence with her, but she couldn't see him. His was like fuel for her magic, she could feel his presence stoking her power.

Against her better judgement, she opened herself up to his energy—it was warm and electric and…wonderful.

"Aducté do mi volum ix ti de... Where is Malivore?"

The question echoed through their connection—suddenly, images of water were replaced with new images, terrifying images.

She saw rocks, dark and foreboding, drenched in blood. She saw cells of iron and heard the wailing of souls. Among the cliffs she saw a distinctive stone entrance marked by towering pillars. The location called out to her like a beacon. A pair of glowing eyes peered out of the darkness.

Found you.

Then there was blackness. Utter darkness. She felt Clarke's spirit recoil—suddenly his terror was all she felt. It was suffocating her—she couldn't breathe.

"Clarke!" she yelled through the connection, she could feel him pulling away from her and she was suddenly terrified of being left alone.

Abruptly, she felt herself slam back into her physical body. Clarke had pulled his hand back from hers and was giving her an unreadable look.

"Clarke…" she began.

"Find what you were looking for?" he asked, absently rubbing his injured hand.

"I did, your blood…it helped me locate Malivore," she said hesitantly. Did he have the same vision?

"I know," he said. "I was there—I was with you."

"I felt you," she said. She had sensed his terror like it was her own—it was like when she had touched his shoulder and felt emptiness.

"Are you…angry?" she asked.

"No," he said simply.

"When you said you were afraid of your father—"

"Let's go find that river," he said, cutting her off.

"Okay, but you remember that I'm the perfect person to understand family drama, right?" she asked.

The more she could get him to open up about his father, the better chance she had at discovering Malivore's weaknesses.

He gave her a strange look—it was somewhere between longing and sadness.

"You've already used me to find my father's location, isn't that enough for now?" he asked.

He actually looked miserable—her heart tightened with guilt.

"Yes," she said.

For now.

It didn't take them long to reach the river; she was actually surprised they had made it without any further incidents. In fact, the woods were quiet—disturbingly so.

She and Clarke didn't talk as they walked—he seemed lost in thought and it didn't feel right to disturb him.

Their strange connection was indeed getting worse…why else would she be feeling empathy for him?

The trees began to thin out and she caught her first glimpse of the water—it was dark and slow moving. She could tell that it must be very deep; it resembled ink bleeding through the landscape.

"I'm going to go wash off," she said inclining her head downstream. "Stay within shouting distance."

He nodded in response as he turned and made his way in the opposite direction.

She waited until she was sure he was completely out of sight before stripping down to her underwear. Her clothes were plastered to her skin like paper mache, making it a challenge just to get undressed.

First things first.

She put a toe in the water and shivered, it wasn't unbearably cold, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. She waded her way into the water, stopping at her waist—she didn't dare go in any deeper. As it was, the current was already winding its way around her legs, beckoning her to surrender to its pull.

She was still amazed that this entire dimension existed at all. There were forests, rivers, and even colossal cliffs all contained within the consciousness of a supernatural being. An evil supernatural being, but still.

Clarke seemed to be just as surprised as she was—which wasn't exactly comforting. If he didn't understand what was happening here, and he was Malivore's son, how was she supposed to figure things out?

She wished Landon was with her. She had spent so many years keeping people out that she was surprised to find how much she missed having someone to talk to.

Still, having Clarke here was better than being alone. He did save her life. He certainly wasn't easy to talk to like Landon, but he was charismatic in his own way—well, interesting to say the least.

And their strange connection was helping her to break down his defenses. He may not be as evil as she initially thought…

Ugh, this was getting too complicated.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes before dunking her head under the water. She pulled her fingers through her hair, trying to work out the snarls. As the water washed away the mud, she felt her magic strengthening—it was the most content she felt since arriving here.

She let herself enjoy the moment; it wasn't often that she could just let herself breathe. She let her magic fill her up—she felt safe, she felt powerful again.

Suddenly, she felt something brush against her leg—she broke the surface with a gasp, but she couldn't see anything in the dark, murky water.

She reluctantly waded back to the bank.

Okay, wash these clothes and get out of here.

She hurriedly dunked her clothes in the water, briskly rubbing the fabric to loosen the dried-on mud. She noticed something moving in the center of the river, but she couldn't distinguish any details—whatever it was, it was large and moving upstream.

Suddenly, it arched its back out of the water—it was scaled like a snake with sharp fins cutting through the surface of the water.

Oh God, Clarke.

She grabbed her clothes and chased the dark shadow as it glided through the water. It was moving quickly in the direction Clarke had been heading.

"Clarke!" she yelled, doing her best to run with her shoes and clothes tucked under one arm. She stumbled over a rock and fell to her knees, cutting them open. They stung sharply as she brushed off the embedded dirt and grit.

"Damn it!" she shouted, hastily grabbing her dropped belongings and breaking back into a sprint.

"There's something in the water!" she screamed once she finally had him in eyesight.

He was up to his waist in the river, his wet clothes hung from a nearby tree. "Get out of the water!" she shouted.

She could only imagine how she looked, soaking wet in her underwear screaming like a madwoman.

He gave her a look of surprise, his eyes growing wide at the sight of her.

"GET OUT!" she yelled at him, voice cracking.

Thankfully, he finally heeded her warning and began to wade out of the water.

At least he still had his boxers on.

Just as he reached the bank, a massive serpent's tail lashed out of the deep, knocking him back into the water.

"Arghh!" Clarke gave out a strangled cry, as the creature dragged him beneath the surface.

"Clarke!" she shouted as she ran helplessly towards the water's edge.

What the hell was that?!

The creature suddenly broke the surface again—this time with Agent Clarke in its jaws. It was a massive water serpent with reflective scales and dark, shining eyes.

How could something that massive hide in a river? She guessed this wasn't any normal river.

"Glace, solidatur. Glace, solidatur..." Hope chanted, focusing on freezing the water around the creature.

It was working, the serpent struggled to move as the water around it froze, locking it into place and preventing it from disappearing back under the surface.

"Hope! I know what monster this is!" Clarke called desperately. "I helped put it here—it's called the Uncegila!"

The great snake let out a terrifying roaring sound as it turned its attention to Hope—the movement almost caused Clarke to fall to the frozen surface below, but the creature caught him mid-fall.

"How do I kill it?" she asked, watching in horror as Clarke twisted desperately in the creature's jaws—he was dangling by his arm now, which was currently bent at an extremely unnatural angle.

"Not easily," Clarke responded through clenched teeth. "It's impervious to magic—you have to attack it physically."

Great, because she felt totally prepared to fight a giant water monster in her bra and panties.

The ice was cracking from the creature's frantic thrashing—she had to act fast.

"There's a spot near its throat—it's the only place its vulnerable!" he shouted down to her.

Suddenly, the creature flung Clarke to the bank with a whip of its giant head. He flew from the creature's mouth with incredible force and slammed into a nearby tree—he landed limp and quiet on the ground.

Hope's heart leapt to her throat— she swore she could feel his pain, the back of her skull burst with white-hot pain.

She ran to his side and found his neck was broken—she knew from a lifetime spent with immortal creatures that he would be out for a while before he would resurrect.

She was alone now.

If she couldn't use magic, there was no way she would be able to fight a creature this size on her own.

Unless…

She swiftly pulled off her family pendant and placed it around Clarke's neck.

"Take care of this for me," she said.

Turning around, she saw that the creature had finished breaking through the ice and was poised to strike.

She tucked her body in and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding its curved fangs.

Yeah, well she had fangs too.

She let the change come over her—fast and violent

Allowing herself to shift into her wolf form was highly personal and she was glad that Clarke wasn't conscious to witness it.

Unfortunately, she had no other choice—if physical strength is what she needed to defeat this beast, then it was time to release the wolf.

This creature was going to regret ever challenging her.

She felt her skin ripple as her muscles stretched under her skin; she felt her ears lengthen and fur spread across her body. Her tongue met razor sharp canines and her tail twitched in anticipation behind her.

With a howl, the transformation was complete—she barred her fangs and let out a guttural snarl.

Time to hunt.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**(Ryan)**

He experienced a wave of excruciating pain and then…nothing. He'd "died" plenty of times in the past—it wasn't something that really fazed him anymore. More than anything, he hated the inconvenience of it all.

The first time it had happened, it was at his father's hand. Memories played in his mind like shadows on a cave wall…

He rose out of the mud, a perfect blank slate.

The air, the sun, the earth beneath him were all so strange and new.

"I have given you life," the rumbling voice said in his head.

In front of him sat his father—the golem was larger than himself, his stocky, powerful form loomed over him, blocking out the light.

He noticed the strange pattern on his father's forehead and reached out a trembling hand.

His father stopped him—"It is the mark of my imprisonment," he said bitterly.

Ryan remembered frowning at the words—he understood little, but if this being had created him, he did not wish for him to be unhappy.

"I—I don't understand." His first words.

"You will," the voice had said.

In the coming months, his father had tested him—all tests that he failed. Once his father had realized that he had failed to produce a creation true to his vision, he had thrown Ryan into a boulder, unconcerned with the consequences.

When he resurrected shortly after, his father had been pleasantly surprised. He may not have inherited all of his father's abilities, and he lacked the capability to continue his genetic line, but his immortality was something. It meant he would be a useful asset in his father's mission.

At least that is what he had been told.

He even believed it for a time

Times change.

When he awoke this time, he was laying disoriented on the forest floor. His neck and arm were set at uncomfortable angles, so he popped them back into place.

That's better.

He could hear a nearby conflict between what sounded like wild animals. The sounds were savage—whatever was nearby was clearly fighting to the death.

He opened his eyes and found the world still blurry as his eyes readjusted—he could make out two creatures locked in a violent struggle several yards away.

His memories came rushing back—the Uncegila!

The giant serpent was currently thrashing its massive tail at its much smaller foe—a particularly ferocious looking white wolf.

The wolf wasn't backing down and easily dodged the monster's attempts to crush it. It was agile as it leapt from rock to rock along the river bank, snapping its mighty jaws at the creature's flesh.

He looked around for Hope, noting her clothes were still in a pile under the trees. He feared the worst—the Uncegila couldn't be harmed by magic. She may have been able to freeze the water around it, but only a strike to the vulnerable spot on its neck could truly harm the beast.

He needed to find Hope now and leave while the monster was distracted.

As he stood up, he felt something around his neck. He looked down to see Hope's pendant, the one she always fiddled with when she was nervous or thinking.

Suddenly, the pieces fell into place—If she had given this to him that meant…

The white wolf was Hope.

At that moment, the wolf's yellow eyes met his, her ears flattened as she snarled in warning—the message was clear: Stay Back.

The Uncegila took advantage of Hope's momentary distraction and used its tail to knock her roughly into the river. The two disappeared into the murky water.

"Hope!" he yelled in horror, running to the river's edge.

The Uncegila had full advantage in the water—it could drown her in an instant.

The seconds passed like hours, he had no idea what was happening under the water and he had no way of helping.

Suddenly, the creature broke the surface, sending torrents of water skyward. Its head was thrown back revealing Hope with her jaws sunken deep into its throat.

The Uncegila's black blood was pouring out of the wound, making a gruesome contrast against her silvery fur.

Hope released her grip on the monster's throat, taking a chunk of its flesh with her. The Uncegila fell backwards into the river as Hope paddled her way to shore.

Up close, he could see she was much larger than a regular wolf—her golden eyes seemed to glow with a light of their own. Water poured off her fur and blood dripped from her mouth.

He backed up, wary of her bloodlust. He had spent enough time in the supernatural community to know that werewolves often lost their sensibilities when in their wolf forms—they couldn't always distinguish friend from foe, especially when they had been on the hunt.

"Hope, it's me," he said carefully, raising his hands in surrender. He had no idea if that would make any difference—he wasn't Hope's friend; they were temporary allies at best. Would her wolf mind recognize a truce with an enemy? Or would his blood be the next to spill?

"It's Agent Clarke…Ryan, if you'd like," he finished with a nervous laugh.

She snarled, ears flattening against her skull. He fought the urge to run, a chase would make this so much worse.

"Hope, I don't know if you understand me—" Her eyes narrowed at him, wordlessly communicating her offense.

"Wait," he began. "I just wanted to remind you that I saved your life, you don't want to kill me after that, right? We're going to find Malivore… together."

He felt his blood freeze; Hope was truly frightening in her wolf form.

She took a step forward, loose rocks crunching under her powerful paws.

He stood his ground and lifted out a tentative hand. Maybe if he could reach her through their strange connection, she would recognize him.

"I'm going to touch you now," he said.

Hope growled; the sound rumbled in his chest.

God, he was a dumb son of a bitch.

He took another step forward.

She let out a low whine but made no move to stop him as he reached out his hand.

He sucked in a breath and bridged the last few inches between them, placing his hand on her large muzzle.

"Hope?" he asked, feeling the warmth bloom under his palm.

"Clarke…" Her voice echoed in his head, as clear as if she had spoken them aloud.

Impossible.

Suddenly, Hope began to sway unsteadily, her eyes falling shut. A heartbeat later she fell forward, crushing him under her weight.

"Hope!" he shouted, muffled from beneath her fur. "What's wrong, what's happened?"

He could feel her breathing, slow and deep—she was unconscious.

"It burns…" The thought came to him unbidden. Somehow Hope was communicating with him through her wolf form, even unconscious.

He suddenly felt a stinging in the corner of his eye—it burned. He struggled to get his arm unpinned to wipe his face.

His hand came back covered in the same dark blood that coated Hope's face. It was the blood—it was acidic. The blood was poison.

The realization sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had to get the blood out of Hope's mouth.

He pushed up on Hope's form, rolling her off of his chest. He scrambled to his feet and struggled to shake her awake.

"Hope! You have to wake up, you have to get the blood out of your mouth!" he shouted.

It was no use; she was unresponsive.

Damnit. Not again.

He grabbed onto the fur around her neck and pulled, dragging her to the river's edge. He used his hands to pry open her jaws, taking care to avoid her sharp canines.

"Someone…help…" the voice came to him again, causing his heart to clench in his chest. He couldn't lose her now.

Using one hand to keep her mouth open, he used the other to splash water into her mouth, rinsing out the poisoned blood.

"You know, this would be a lot easier if you just changed back," he said, mostly to himself.

"Can't…" her voice answered him.

"You can hear me? Understand me?" he asked, momentarily pausing his efforts, but she failed to answer him.

"Hope?" he asked again, finding himself stroking her fur, tracing rhythmic circles with his thumb.

"Landon?" she asked, the desperation clear in her voice.

Seriously?

"No. Not Landon," he replied, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.

He resumed flushing the water over her muzzle, cleaning the last of the acidic blood from her fur before rolling her back from the water's edge.

He saved her life, what, three times now? And she thinks he's Landon? He flicked the pendant handing around his neck in annoyance.

He knew he wasn't being rational. Hope was barely conscious—of course it made sense for her to call out for Landon.

But for some reason, it really pissed him off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**(Hope)**

As soon as her teeth pierced the monster's throat, she knew something was wrong. The taste was all wrong—there was something acidic and foul about it. It's what she imagined battery acid would taste like.

Underwater, the monster had thrashed and struggled in her grip, but she refused to relent, pouring all of her anger and frustration into the bite, tearing flesh and crushing bone.

Clarke had woken up at the worst possible moment; she had planned on luring the monster closer to the shore before going for its throat. Deep water was definitely enemy territory.

Somehow, she had managed to kill the beast without drowning herself in the process, but she had let the victory go to her head.

She dug deeper into the flesh when she should have let go. She relished in the kill when she should have retreated.

Now she was paying for her carelessness.

It was always like this when she was in wolf form—something inside her was set free, something wild.

Her senses were undeniably better; she could hear, see, smell so much better than when she was a human.

But it came at a cost.

She often lost herself in the change. She supposed all werewolves felt this way to an extent. However, she couldn't help but think that her wildness came from something deeper— something she usually tucked away.

She was the reason her parents were dead, she had brought that heartache upon herself, and worse, upon those she loved.

As Hope Mikaelson, she had to be controlled, careful, guarded. But as a wolf, she was free. Those moments when she ran through the woods she belonged to no legacy but her own.

Now she was lost—adrift somewhere between sleeping and awake, all because she let the wolf have a little too much control.

She knew she was still in wolf form, her senses were too strong for it not to be true. However, something was wrong… She couldn't see anything—she couldn't find her way to the surface.

Suddenly, she felt something— someone was pulling her, dragging her across a rough surface.

She let out a whine.

God, everything ached, ached and burned.

Then came the water, it pushed and forced its way into her mouth, choking and gagging her.

She was drowning! She tried to pull away.

"Someone...help…"

"You know, this would be a lot easier if you just changed back," a male voice said.

Change back? Oh, yes, she was still a wolf.

"Can't..." she thought. It was impossible; she felt like she was drowning in her own consciousness.

"You can hear me? Understand me?" The voice asked anxiously.

"Hope?"

She felt a warm hand stroking her fur. The gesture was calming—she didn't want it to stop.

Who was this reassuring presence?

Landon. It must be him.

The soothing gesture stopped.

"No. Not Landon," the voice returned tersely.

She was confused.

If not Landon, who could it be?

More than anything, she wanted that hand to reach out to her again. Everything felt cold... She needed that connection, she craved it.

She tried to call out, but it was no use; she was utterly exhausted. And without that hand to tether her to reality, she felt herself slipping back into unconsciousness.

When she awoke, it was dark. For a terrifying moment, she feared that she had fallen back into the pit of quicksand.

But slowly, the world came back into focus. She was laying at the edge of the woods, the river bank still visible several yards away. It was nighttime, at least, this dimension's version of nighttime.

It was then that she realized she wasn't alone; Clarke was laying next to her, sleeping on his side with his head near hers.

There was something open about his expression in sleep—there was no mask, no animosity, just Clarke. Her wolf vision let her see easily in the dark, she could make out each detail, each curl, even the stubble growing on his chin.

Just then, his eyes blinked open, a brief flash of panic crossing his features.

She laid her head back down, leveling her gaze to his.

"Hope?" he asked tentatively. "Are you...alright?"

"Yes, I think so," she answered automatically, aware that he wouldn't be able to understand her in wolf form.

"Good," he said.

Wait, what? Her ears perked up in interest. Had he been able to understand her?

"Yes, I thought we established that already," he said, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Impossible. "How is that possible?" she asked, watching him warily.

"I was hoping that you could tell me," he said. "Is this not a special tribrid power?"

"No. Not that I've ever experienced."

He eyed her with interest, "Do you think it's this?" he asked, gesturing between them.

Oh, God.

She hadn't thought of that; their odd connection had been growing stronger, but this was beyond strange. She had never heard of a wolf being able to communicate like this before; she wasn't even trying!

"Really, you're not trying to talk to me?" he asked, clearly fascinated.

Crap. How was he doing this?

"I don't know," he said, edging closer to her.

She let out a low growl.

He flinched. "Hey, relax," he said.

"I would," she thought, "If I knew you couldn't just read my mind."

"Maybe this is a good thing," he countered. "If you weren't able to understand me, you may have bitten my head off when I was trying to get that poison blood out of your mouth."

"That was you?" she asked.

"Who else would it have been?" he asked. "Couldn't you feel—" He paused, his eyes shifting away from hers, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

In her semi-conscious state she had thought it was Landon... but it was him. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Anyways, maybe we should keep moving," he said, inclining his head to the woods behind them.

She got up, stretching her legs and back. She wasn't used to sleeping in wolf form, it was odd to wake up like this.

"Why don't you change back? I left your clothes in a pile over there," he said pointing behind her.

Indeed, her clothes were in a neatly folded pile at the base of a nearby tree. Glancing back at him, she saw a glint of something around his neck, her pendant.

Following her gaze, he reached to pull it out from beneath his shirt.

"Oh, yeah. You, uh, must have given it to me before you…" he trailed off, gesturing to her vaguely.

"Saved your ass?" she asked.

He let out a laugh. "Let's just call it even."

She did her best to roll her eyes in wolf form.

"I'm going to go change back. You better not look, Agent Clarke, or I'll tear you apart." She bared her fangs at him, relishing the look of genuine terror that crossed his face.

"Noted," he said as he moved several paces away, back turned to her.

Satisfied that he intended on keeping his word, she made her way to where her clothes had been tidily folded.

Sheesh, this was even nicer than how she usually kept her clothes at home.

She took a moment to call her human self to the forefront of her mind; she focused on closing off her wolf senses, pulling on the thread of her human soul.

She anticipated the change and coaxed her breath into an even rhythm. She was ready...but...nothing.

Something was wrong; she wasn't changing back! The realization struck her with a jolt of dread, icy and paralyzing.

No, that can't be.

She pushed the panic aside and refocused her energy. She envisioned the feeling of soil between human toes, the sound of human laughter, the softness of a kiss…

Nothing. She was still a wolf.

Snarling in frustration, she called out to Clarke.

"Clarke! Something's wrong!"

She heard him coming up behind her, seemingly still cautious from her earlier warning.

"I can't change back," she said, unbiddeningly tucking her tail between her legs in shame.

"How can that be?" he asked. "You're unlike other werewolves...you're special, right?"

"Yes. This isn't normal, I've never been trapped like this before," she finished quietly.

"Hey, it's okay…" he said. "I mean, we'll figure this out."

"We?" she asked skeptically.

"I mean, our truce is still in effect, right?" he asked.

She watched him carefully. He gave her a crooked little smile, out of place as always.

"Maybe you just need a little time, we can try again later," he suggested.

There was no other option.

"Fine, grab my clothes and let's keep walking."

He tucked her clothes under one arm and began walking along the treeline. She trotted beside him, but kept a healthy distance between them.

She was frustrated and angry, and right now she didn't trust herself not to lash out.

"Are you really going to bite me?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Get out of my head," she growled back at him.

He just laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**(Ryan)**

**Gwyllion "The gwyllion are female fairies of frightful aspect who haunt lonely roads in the Welsh mountains and lead travellers astray. They are gloomy spirits more akin to hags or witches, as distinct from the Welsh ellyllon (elves) that are more benevolent. Those who encountered them either by night or on a misty day would be sure to lose their way even if they were perfectly familiar with the road."**

Discovering that Hope was stuck in wolf form had taken him by surprise. He had only known her for a short time, but she didn't seem to be the type who failed at anything.

Or at least, that's what she wanted people to think.

What was more surprising, however, was that he could still communicate with her. He had no idea how it had happened; all he knew was that he had desperately wanted to reach her when she ingested that poisoned blood. He needed to will her to live, to fight.

It was becoming an all too common thing, saving each other's lives. The profound distress he felt each time unnerved him. He wasn't used to looking out for anyone but himself.

But it was all part of the plan; he needed to deliver her to his father, alive.

It was a calculated risk, deceiving her like this. If, and that's a big if, she was powerful enough to destroy his father and his legion of monsters, she would undoubtedly become aware of his betrayal.

He glanced over to the wolf walking beside him, but she gave no indication that she was paying attention to him at all. She trekked skillfully over the rocky terrain, making nearly no noise as she went.

It was a great relief that she didn't seem able to read his thoughts in the same way he heard hers. Having her voice in his head was a strange enough, especially when snippets of her thoughts flickered through his head, intertwining with his own.

Despite it all, he was becoming somewhat attached to her presence. Which, he knew, was a profoundly moronic impulse. If working at Triad had taught him anything, it was that you can't trust anyone.

His allowed his thoughts to wander…

He had been walking down the corridor of a perfectly ordinary office building. He could hear the incessant ringing of phones, a copy machine worked tirelessly in a poorly lit corner, and the fluorescent lights buzzed irritatingly overhead.

He was there posing as an IRS agent, auditing the company's files.

A nervous businessman walked a few paces ahead, rambling anxiously.

"As I'm sure you'll find, our accounting department keeps meticulous records. I'm sure the inconsistency you found must be a mistake…" he trailed off, adjusting his tie.

"Yes, I'm sure," Ryan replied as congenially as he could manage. He was often selected for undercover work, something he didn't mind. He fancied himself a rather accomplished manipulator—he had his father to thank for that.

What he did mind was working with a partner. Fortunately, his companion for this case was an agent he had come to tolerate over the years.

Agent Phillips was a no-nonsense type of woman who put in late hours and excelled at her job. She also took an interest in cryptid research, and thus, was his frequent companion on missions.

She had no idea who he really was, of course—his stint in Malivore had made sure of that. However, she respected him and let him take the lead on the most interesting cases.

She had become a mother figure of sorts. Not the affectionate kind, but the kind who pushed you to do better, and made you believe that you could.

Most days, Agent Phillips was the only person he could stand at Triad.

Today, they were looking for documentation of an underground network, running supernatural creatures under the radar of Triad's tracking system.

It should have been simple enough; truthfully, he didn't expect to actually find anything. They had been chasing dead ends for months.

But that day was different; it turned out that the man who ran the accounting department was indeed involved with the underground network. And to top it off, he actually kept physical paperwork.

Idiot.

On their way back to Triad, Agent Phillips had been quiet. He didn't think much of it until she stopped abruptly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, "If we don't hurry, we'll miss our train."

Suddenly, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the narrow alleyway adjacent to them.

"What are you doing?" he had asked, confused by her outburst. Agent Phillips was hardly an unpredictable woman.

"Tying up loose ends," she said, pulling a gun out of her shoulder bag.

"You've got to be joking," he said, searching for some trace of humor on her face. But Agent Phillips didn't joke—and she just took off the safety.

"Sorry Clarke, I liked you. But Triad's getting too dangerous. I can't let them get their hands on these documents."

He opened his mouth to speak, to reason, but it was too late, she had already pulled the trigger.

When he woke up hours later, he tracked her down himself. She pleaded with him when he held her at the edge of Malivore's pit. She implored him to remember all the time they had spent together, how she was only doing what she thought was right...

It didn't matter.

He still let go.

He was drawn out of his memories by Hope's low growl. She had frozen in the path next to him, ears flattened against her skull.

"Hope…?" he asked tentatively, following the path of her gaze.

At first, he didn't see anything—but then, he caught a glimpse of something moving behind a tree. Whatever it was, it was short in stature and cloaked in shadows.

"Don't move," Hope warned through their connection. "I can smell them; they're hiding behind the trees." She flared her nostrils just to prove her point.

A throaty cackle echoed through the woods—the hair on the back of his neck stood up in response.

"What now?" he hissed through his teeth.

He didn't have to wait long for his answer; the figure stepped out of its hiding spot onto the path. It appeared to be an old woman, hunched over and cloaked in dark, ragged clothing.

"It's Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf," she said in a gravelly voice. "But who is who? I wonder..."

He could just make out the shape of a wicked smile peeking out from beneath her dark hood.

Hope snarled at her, a warning that needed no translation.

"Clarke, what is she?" Hope asked him, he could feel her intentions, she was ready to fight.

"I don't know…" he replied quietly. "Whatever it is, I wasn't the one who sent it here."

"Oh please," the woman said, letting out another otherworldly laugh. "You can call me, Gwyllion."

Shit.

"Clarke?"

"Hope, do not lose sight of me; do not lose sight of the path."

"What is she?" Hope asked; he could feel the panic coursing through her thoughts.

"Welsh. Fae. She causes travelers to lose their way—"

He was cut off by another cackle, as rough as tumbling stones—although that may be an insult to stones.

"My reputation precedes me," the woman said. She was suddenly much, much closer than she had been just moments before.

"Don't worry, my lovelies, I just want to chat," she said, pulling her hood back to reveal her gnarled, weathered face.

She wasn't just old, she was ancient.

"Take a rest, take a stroll through the mist," she said with a smile full of yellowed teeth.

As she spoke, a thick white mist began to roll in around them. He backed up instinctively, but quickly realize they were surrounded; the fog was coming from all directions.

Hope snarled again, a sound he could feel reverberating in his chest. She wasted no time advancing towards the woman in one swift bound.

"Hope!" he called. "Stay close, we can't lose sight of each other!"

It didn't make a difference. Hope was on the hunt once more, snapping her mighty jaws, trying to catch hold of the hag's clothes.

Gwyllion paid no mind, she simply danced into the mist, tempting Hope further into the magical fog.

Dammit—why did she have to be so impulsive?!

In an instant, the pair vanished completely from view.

It was then that he began to feel the pull of the mist surrounding him. It was no ordinary fog bank, it compelled him to move, urged him to keep walking. He knew it would only lead him astray, but the faerie's magic was too strong to resist.

He was totally screwed.

He felt his mind clouding over as his feet took on a mind of their own. One step after another, he walked. And walked. And walked...

No! He had to stay focused. He had to find...

He was looking for someone—but who?

They were important. Yes, very important.

Had he been walking for hours? Days? Years? It felt like an eternity, each thought slipping away as he struggled to grasp it.

He only knew one thing, if he didn't keep moving, he would be left alone. Terror seized his heart in its icy grip.

All alone.

Alone without...hope.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**(Hope)**

She was not going to let that damn hag disappear without a fight. Gwyllion was the first monster they'd encountered that might actually have some useful information. There was no way she was about to watch her only chance at answers vanish into the mist.

She lunged for Gwyllion, but the old woman was sprier than she looked. She tried fruitlessly to grab hold of the faerie's dark cloak with her teeth, but it was no use—she was only being led further and further into the mist.

She distantly heard Clarke shouting something at her, but he would just have to wait.

Gwyllion moved back another step with that strange lilting gait of hers, but this time a swath of mist blew across the path obscuring her completely.

Damnit!

She readied her muscles to make another leap, but a wave of dizziness suddenly overtook her. She swayed, watching the trees around her bend and move strangely. She closed her eyes, willing the strange sensation to abate.

When she opened them, she felt better, so much better.

But her relief didn't last long, she was no longer in the woods; she was on the streets of New Orleans.

What the hell?

She looked around her in a panic, this wasn't right. She shouldn't be here. She should be…

Wait, where should she be exactly?

She tried to remember where she had just been, it had been somewhere important, but not here.

It was the French Quarter; there was no mistaking that. It was midday and the sun was shining hot and bright above her. The air was thick with the smell of magnolia blossoms and cajun spices.

A chorus of ruckus laughter made her turn—she saw a group of tourists making their way towards her, swaying slightly, drinks in hand. She could hear a street musician playing the saxophone somewhere nearby, a familiar tune carried on the air.

It was all so familiar, so perfectly New Orleans .

She was standing in front of an old wooden door, the sign read "Fortunes Read Here."

Was this where she had been going?

She opened the door, causing a shop bell to chime cheerfully overhead.

The shop was small and smelled strongly of herbs and old books. She could definitely feel an authentic hum of magical energy in the air. She figured a witch probably owned the store, earning a little money from tourists by reading fortunes.

"Hello?" she called, peering towards the back of the store where a curtain hung behind the counter.

"Hope!" a friendly voice answered her from behind the counter, followed by a familiar face.

"Aunt Freya?" she asked in disbelief.

"Who else would it be, silly?" Freya asked giving her a grin.

"I—I don't know," Hope stammered. Nothing about this felt right, but she didn't know why. Something was wrong, but if Freya was here, it couldn't be that bad, right?

"What are you doing here?" Hope asked, reaching out to hug her aunt.

It was so good to hug someone familiar.

"What do you mean?" she asked, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm. "I own this shop, you know that."

"Oh, yeah, I guess you do…" she said. That sounded right, didn't it?

Maybe?

"I'm so glad you took me up on my offer to read your fortune while you're here," she said, a twinkle in her eye.

"My fortune?" she asked in confusion. "Why would I need you to—?"

"Oh, come on ," her aunt said, rolling her eyes. "Let's have some fun!"

"I—Sure, that's fine," she said, trying not to hurt Freya's feelings. If she wanted to read her fortune that badly she wasn't going to say no.

"Perfect!" Freya chirped, rushing towards the back of the store, sending up clouds of dust as she went.

"You know, you should really dust in here, this place is going to scare off customers!"

"Oh, quite the contrary," Freya said with a smile as she led Hope to a small table in the back of the store. "Customers love the atmosphere!"

"Uh, sure," she said, sitting opposite her aunt at the table.

Freya took out a silken pouch and pulled out a set of tarot cards, clearly worn with use.

"Tarot?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Tarot," confirmed her aunt eagerly as she shuffled the cards in her hand. She spread the cards on the table facedown.

"Let's do a simple past, present, and future reading."

Hope closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened them slowly and let her hand hover over the cards, listening to her intuition. She felt a warmth; she stopped and slid the card towards her.

"Good, another," Freya said eagerly.

She was really getting into this…

Hope repeated the process, selecting a second card from the spread and laid it face down next to the first.

"Last card…" Freya said, rubbing her hands together theatrically.

"Jeeze, Aunt Freya, you know we've done this a million times…"

"Last card…" she repeated.

Despite the strangeness of her aunt's behavior, she held her hand over the cards feeling for the right one.

"Ouch!" she yelped, one of the cards had given her an electric shock.

"That one," Freya said with a gleam in her eyes. Hope pulled it carefully from the pile and set it into position.

What the hell was going on?

"Are you ready for the reveal?" Freya asked.

"Yeah, sure," she said, biting her bottom lip nervously. She was never normally nervous with Freya, maybe she was just imagining things…but she did feel strange.

Before she could give the feeling more thought, Freya flipped the first card over; it was "The Fool." The image showed a traveler, cheerfully and blindly walking towards the edge of a cliff, their dog following close behind.

"Oh, 'The Fool!' Looks like someone doesn't look before they leap," Freya said with a chuckle. "It seems that you may be starting a new journey… Or, perhaps, you've leapt off a cliff recently?"

Leapt? Somehow that did seem familiar.

She did take a lot of risks…

"Next card is the present," Freya said, flipping it over; it was "The Devil." The card depicted a goat headed devil holding the chains of a naked man and woman. The pair seemed rather oblivious to their own peril despite the fire burning all around them.

Hope swallowed thickly, she always hated this card. It meant imprisonment, manipulation .

"Ah, 'The Devil.' You're being manipulated," Freya confirmed with a smile.

"No need to look so happy about it…" she said, eyeing her aunt a bit warily.

"Last card!" Freya exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "This one should be interesting…"

This was the card that had shocked her...it was also the future card. She knew tarot was an inexact form of magic; it was full of symbolism and subject to interpretation. But that knowledge did nothing to calm her nerves.

"Why don't you flip this one?" Freya asked, an excited grin still glued to her face.

She reached out hesitantly, half expecting the card to shock her again. However, it felt totally normal in her hand. Almost disappointingly so.

She took a deep breath and flipped it over—It was "The Lovers" card.

That was unexpected.

While the pair appeared content, standing under the watchful eye of a heavenly being, she couldn't help but notice an eerie resemblance to the couple in "The Devil" card.

"All majors, wonderful!" Freya said clapping once again. "You have quite the epic life…"

"Well, that's no secret," Hope said bitterly.

"Tell me, what do you think it means? 'The Lovers?' Do you have a special man in your life?" Freya asked.

"I—" she considered telling her about Landon, but for some reason it didn't feel right.

"Oh come on," Freya said reaching across the table, taking her hands in hers. "You know how much I love hearing about handsome men!" she said with a wink.

"What? Oh, yeah right," Hope said rolling her eyes.

Freya looked confused.

Wait, that was odd. Freya wasn't interested in men…

"Aunt Freya?" she asked tentatively.

"Oh, a joke, yes," her aunt laughed, a beat too late.

This wasn't her aunt.

She reached instinctively for her family pendant, but it wasn't there. She panicked, looking down to see that it was indeed missing.

Suddenly, memories came flooding back— Malivore. Monsters. Clarke.

"You aren't Freya!" she shouted, jumping up from the table.

The thing that looked like Freya smiled, but it was wicked and full of yellowed teeth.

"Gwyllion," she said in horror.

The illusion evaporated in an instant; she was suddenly alone with Gwyllion in a black void, her aunt, the cards, the shop just vanished.

Vanished in a cloud of mist.

"What did you do? How am I human again?" she asked, checking to see that she was still standing on two legs.

"Glamour," Gwlyllion said, waving her hand dismissively. "You see what you want to see."

"And what do you want?" Hope asked, narrowing her eyes at the old woman.

"Just your story. It gets so dreadfully boring here," she replied, her crooked teeth shining in the darkness.

"My story? " she asked incredulously. "Then what?"

"Then I let you go...see how things play out," she said tapping a long bony finger on her chin thoughtfully.

"Why let me go at all?" she asked. "I thought every monster in this hell hole was trying to kill me or turn me over to Malivore."

The hag shrugged. "Some of us just like our stories," she said. "Here. There. Wherever I go, there's stories to be told. I'm in no hurry."

While she doubted that was the whole truth, Gwyllion did seem oddly sincere.

"And what do I get out of this? Why shouldn't I kill you like I killed that river monster?" she asked angrily.

"I suppose I could give you a piece of information...perhaps about your future card?"

She considered asking about Maivore's location, but she was fairly certain Clarke and her had already worked that out for themselves. Maybe the hag knew something about how to defeat him...

"How do I destroy Malivore?" she asked.

"Oh, no that's boring," Gwyllion replied. "I could tell you something interesting, though—if you ask the right question."

"Anything besides how to kill Malivore is useless to me," she said, patience growing thin.

"I know something else you're curious about…" she said.

"You're wrong," Hope said definitely.

"Perhaps you want to know more about the company you keep?" the hag asked in her gravelly voice.

Clarke?

She supposed she had been wondering about Clarke's intentions...

"Do you know anything about my... companion?" she asked, careful not to speak Clarke's name directly.

"You want to know how you became involved with a Son of Malivore, but you've only yourself to blame," she answered with a wicked smile.

Involved? She didn't like the way Gwyllion said that word.

"What do you mean, involved ?" she asked. "If you're talking about Landon, that's not what I meant—I'm asking about whatever… connection I have with his brother."

"I know of whom you speak," Gwyllion replied testily. "I have given you your answer."

She felt her frustration reaching a breaking point—she didn't have time for riddles. She closed the gap between them, taking the old woman by the throat.

"You promised me information, not riddles ."

Gwyllion didn't seem particularly bothered by her outburst, in fact she seemed downright amused.

"Fine, don't let an old woman have her fun," she said with a smile. Hope released her grip.

"You cast a spell when you entered Malivore, did you not?" the old woman asked.

"A mimic spell…" she answered carefully.

"Oh, this is delightful," Gwyllion cackled. "And you had physical contact with him when you entered the portal?" she asked.

"Yes," she whispered, a sinking feeling growing in her chest.

"Tell me, were you feeling rather emotionally charged when you cast this spell? Perhaps looking deep into his eyes?"

"I warned you, stop with the riddles," she snarled. The old woman raised her hands in surrender.

"I've already giving you all the answers, little one," she said, still smiling.

"Then, elaborate," she bit out through clenched teeth.

Gwyllion sighed.

As if she had any reason to be frustrated.

"Think about it—you tied yourself physically, magically, and emotionally to this man, then you entered an unstable portal." Hope felt herself getting dizzy.

"Malivore was built on isolation, but its very nature is in flux! It's true, the company of another being soothes the pain of this place, but your bond goes deeper, yes?"

She nodded; the pieces were beginning to fall into place, but it wasn't necessarily a picture she was ready to see.

"It seems the Son of Malivore may have had a role in this too," she mused. "He knew this dimension breeds isolation and feared returning to his lonely prison."

Oh, God.

"He was born of Malivore and his wish not to be sent back into isolation combined with your magic formed something new, something unique… A bond in the dark," she said with a smile.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"Only you can figure that out," she said with a wink. Alarmingly, she began to grow fuzzy around the edges.

"No!" she screamed, reaching to catch the woman before she vanished—but it was too late. Gwyllion had disappeared, her cackling laughter trailing on the wind.

* * *

A moment later she felt herself slam back into her body—her wolf body.

She struggled to see through the thick fog that had completely obscured the woods around her but she could barely make out her own feet. She looked for Clarke, but he had vanished like everything else.

She strained her ears to listen for him, but, even with her wolf senses, there was nothing but silence.

She was about to let out a howl when she caught a glimpse of something through the fog—it was Clarke.

He was even paler than usual, drifting in and out the shadowy landscape like a phantom.

Something was very wrong.

"Clarke!" she shouted through the bond. She let out a sharp bark to catch his attention, but he ignored her, disappearing between one breath and the next.

She followed his scent, wary of falling into some kind of trap.

She almost considered staying put and waiting for the fog to lift, but then she saw him again. He was walking trance-like towards a huge pit, not unlike the one he had trapped the ogre in when they first arrived.

"Clarke!" she called desperately through their connection, but he didn't turn.

"Clarke!" she tried again, willing her thoughts to reach him, but he remained on course.

Oh, screw it.

She leapt forward, against her better judgement, crashing into Clarke and knocking him firmly to the ground. They had landed only a few feet from where the pit was lying in wait.

He looked up at her, blinking slowly with unfocused eyes.

"Hope?" he asked, looking up at her in confusion. She had him pinned beneath her, paws on either shoulder holding him in place.

"Can I trust you not to do something stupid again? " she asked through the connection.

"Stupid?" he asked, clearly still dazed from whatever spell he had been under.

"Yes, stupid. You nearly walked into a damn pit!" she thought with a snarl.

She wasn't sure why she was so upset. When they first arrived, she couldn't stand Agent Clarke—but somehow that didn't matter as much anymore.

It was then that she realized his cheek was bleeding, a ribbon of dark red trailing down his face. He must have scrapped it on the rocky ground when she tackled him.

The warmth that bloomed between them when they made contact began sneaking its way into her senses. Almost in a trance herself, she bent down to the wound and gave it a tentative lick.

She'd like to think it was her wolf instincts taking over, but honestly, it felt more like she was going crazy.

"Uhh, Hope?" Clarke asked, clearly as bewildered by her actions as she was.

What the hell was she thinking?!

Suddenly, she felt a surge of energy, not unlike when he had offered his blood to assist her with the water locator spell.

She was going to change back, she could feel it, and it was beyond her control.

"CLOSE YOUR EYES," she shouted through the bond, gripped by panic.

"Wha—?" he began.

"NOW," she commanded with a growl.

He did as he was told, closing his eyes beneath her.

Just in time.

A split second later, the change coursed through her— she felt the wolf falling away and the resurgence of the human girl underneath.

A heartbeat later, she was fully human again.

Very human, very naked, and lying directly on top of Agent Clarke.

"Ryan, please don't open your eyes," she whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**A dragon is a large, serpent-like legendary creature that appears in the folklore of many cultures around the world. Beliefs about dragons vary drastically by region, but dragons in western cultures since the High Middle Ages have often been depicted as winged, horned, four-legged, and capable of breathing fire. Dragons in eastern cultures are usually depicted as wingless, four-legged, serpentine creatures with above-average intelligence.**

**(Ryan)**

Faerie magic was the worst.

It was elemental— primal. Their bond with the natural world coupled with their ancient sensibilities make for a formidable combination.

Gwyllion's mist had easily ensnared him in its grip; he had lost his way in mere moments. If it hadn't been for Hope, he probably would have wandered through these godforsaken woods for the rest of his miserable existence.

Hope.

She had knocked him to the ground just before he fell into one of the many rocky pits that littered the landscape.

It seemed being tackled by a wolf was an underrated cure for faerie enchantment.

It had taken him a moment to even recognize her, coming out of his trance. She was as formidable as ever, silvery white fur offset by a luminous gaze. She was all winter, icy and sleek, except for her eyes— her eyes burned like fire.

He was lost in those eyes when she lowered her head down to lick his cheek. The sensation was jolting, if he hadn't been alert before, he certainly was then.

He barely had enough time to register what had happened before she demanded him to close his eyes. It was the loudest he had ever heard her through their bond; he felt every ounce of desperation in her plea.

He couldn't have refused her if he tried.

Then, just like that, the wolf fell away.

Somehow, feeling her transformation seemed even more intimate that watching it would have been.

He felt her emotions first, her panic was replaced by an incredible sense of urgency and energy. Her power was raw and untamed, coursing between them like electricity.

Then, the weight above him changed drastically. The crushing pressure of the wolf was replaced with something soft, warm, and distinctly female.

He swore he wasn't breathing.

Where powerful paws had pinned him to the ground, hands now gripped his shoulders. He felt her long hair fall around his face as she leaned down—

"Ryan, please don't open your eyes," she whispered in his ear.

"Hope?" he asked quietly; it was the first time he had heard her speaking voice in quite some time.

Wait, did she just call him Ryan?

For some reason, the thought caused his heart to beat sporadically in his chest.

"I don't know what happened," she said, clearly distressed. "I've never had trouble controlling my transformations before."

He began to open his eyes on instinct before a hand came down, covering them.

"I told you, do not open your eyes, Agent Clarke!"

Ah, he was Agent Clarke once more.

"I was carrying your clothes with me," he said. "I'm sure if you look around where you so gracelessly tackled me to the ground, you'll find them."

"Watch it," she said. "I may not have claws anymore, but I can still hurt you."

He laughed as he felt her get up, but the absence of her body heat bothered him more than he liked to admit.

"Oh, thank God," he heard her say from several paces away. After a few minutes, he heard her footsteps return.

"You can look now," she said, peering down at him, dressed and fully human once more.

"I just need my pendant... " Her hands went to her neck, feeling for it, despite just acknowledging its absence.

He mirrored her action, finding the Mikaelson family pendant still fastened securely around his neck.

He stood up and reached around to remove it; he felt a distinct chill where it had been laying against his chest.

She took the necklace from him with a small smile. He tried to feel her for her thoughts, but it seemed different now that she was no longer in wolf form. He had a vague impression of her emotions, but her echoing thoughts were now absent.

However, there was no mistaking her feelings as she took the necklace in her hand. She was relieved and content, a feeling of sentimentality hung around her, warm and soft.

It was amazing how much she seemed to care for her family.

Wonder what that felt like...

He watched her struggling with the locking mechanism on the chain, brushing her hair away in annoyance.

"Do you want me to…?" he trailed off, uncertain of whether or not she wanted his help working the clasp.

"It's fine, I do this all the time," she said quickly.

"I can help, if you let me," he said, moving closer.

"It's just because you're watching," she said in an irritated tone, turning her back to him.

She wouldn't ask for help, but he could pick up on her frustration and embarrassment.

He quietly came up behind her and took the necklace from her hands— they were shaking.

"I saw my aunt," she said quietly.

"Your aunt? Here?" he asked with surprise.

She nodded as he gently pushed the hair away from the nape of her neck.

"It was an illusion—faerie glamour," she explained. "I wanted it to be her so badly. I'm worried that when I get back, no one will…" she let her words trail off.

"Remember you?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she admitted, so softly he barely caught it.

He finished clasping the necklace and she turned to face him, eyes shining.

"The Mikaelson name...it's been a part of me since before I was even born. If no one remembers me, who will I be?"

He sighed. It wasn't exactly a feeling her could empathize with. When he had spent time in Malivore, he hadn't left a family or friends behind.

It was an inconvenience more than anything, reestablishing himself at Triad.

Still, she looked up at him expectantly, with rare vulnerability in her expression.

"I don't know what will happen if we ever get out of here," he began. "But, maybe it won't be such a bad thing if no one remembers you're a Mikaelson. You could just be…you," he offered.

She gave him a guarded look, her emotions were indecipherable.

"I've never had that. I've always had the weight of the world on my shoulders, even my name, 'Hope,' I've had to be that for people…" she said softly.

"You belong to yourself first, Hope," he said. "At the end of the day, you're the one who's going to be there for you. You have to believe that you're worth it."

He noticed the corners of her mouth turning up into a ghost of a smile. "You're being genuine," she said. "I can feel it, I can see it. You look different when you're being real with me…"

He took a step back—he wasn't sure what brought on this honesty between them, but he couldn't risk her finding out about his plans. He needed to close himself off to this—-

Suddenly, a snapping of twigs caused them both to turn.

Hope threw her hands out in a protective magical stance, already preparing for the worst. But there was no need—a young man emerged from behind a nearby tree, visibly wounded.

"Can you help me?" the boy asked in a broken voice, leaning against the tree for support.

If he had to guess, he seemed about sixteen years old, Asian heritage, with a particularly nasty wound to his upper chest.

"Oh my god," Hope said, rushing to close the distance between herself and the stranger.

"What happened?" she asked, hands fluttering around the boy, trying to assess the damage. "Who— What did this to you?"

"Dragon," he bit out, closing his eyes in pain. "I've been hiding in these woods trying to get away from it…"

"Who are you?" Ryan asked skeptically.

He didn't trust this newcomer.

No one ended up in Malivore by accident.

"Clarke!" Hope chided, "Leave him alone, he's hurt!"

"I'm just a human— I don't know how I ended up here," the boy said, meeting Ryan's eyes. "But he looks like them, the people in suits who put me here."

Hope turned to him, accusation in her eyes. " What did you do?" she asked, her emotions flared around her, hot and angry.

"I didn't have anything to do with him," he said, inclining his head towards the boy. "But what makes you believe his story? Everything here has been trying to kill us!"

"Oh, please, he's in no shape to kill anyone," Hope said, gesturing to boy's blood soaked clothes. "I can do a spell," she said turning her attention back to the stranger.

"What's your name?" she asked, helping the boy sit at the base of the tree.

"It's Huan," he said, smiling up at Hope.

"Well, Huan, it's your lucky day," she said. "I just so happen to be a witch, and I can heal your wound."

"A witch?" he asked, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. "How is any of this even real? "

Hope laughed, but Ryan wasn't buying the boy's play at naivety.

"Where did you encounter the dragon?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Out in the rock formations," Huan said through gritted teeth.

"The rock formations?" Hope asked. "That's where we're heading, we need to get to Mali—"

"We're looking for someone," Ryan cut her off. "We think they're in the caves there."

Huan narrowed his eyes at him.

The mistrust was definitely mutual.

"Huan, if I heal you, do you think you could show us the best way to get there? We've gotten turned around recently…" Hope said.

"If you can heal me, I'll do anything for you," Huan said eagerly.

"Just directions will do," Hope said lightly. "Now, this may feel strange, but hang in there…" She began muttering quietly under her breath as she moved her hands lightly over Huan's chest.

Ryan could feel her concentration, she was using a tremendous amount of energy, he could feel it.

This spell was costing her.

As he watched, Huan's wounds began to heal over, leaving nothing but a torn and bloody shirt.

"That was amazing!" Huan said, running his hands over the spot where the wound had been. "You're—you're incredible."

"Yeah, yeah," said Ryan. "Just make with the directions, GPS boy."

"Clarke! Would it kill you to not be a jerk to every single person you meet?" Hope asked, planting her hands on her hips.

"It's fine if he doesn't trust me," Huan said, getting up from the forest floor. "I wouldn't trust me either."

"Yeah, well, believe it or not, he's always an asshole," Hope said.

"Yeah, you're a real peach yourself, Hope," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Hope? Your name is Hope?" Huan asked. "What a fitting name for such a beautiful girl."

He could tell Hope was blushing. It was sickening, really.

"I came from that way," Huan said, pointing to a narrow rocky trail off to their right. "I think I remember the way."

"Thank you, Huan. I'm so glad we met you," Hope said pointedly as she began walking up the path's incline.

"Not as happy as I am," Huan returned, matching her stride and falling into step beside her.

Ryan watched them as they began to trek up the path, leaving no room for him on the narrow walkway.

"Come on, suit, try to keep up," Huan shouted over his shoulder, casting Ryan a wicked smirk.

He could hear Hope laugh as she playfully touched Huan's arm.

Ryan felt like killing him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**(Hope)**

Hope didn't trust Huan— but she would rather fight another river monster in her underwear than admit it.

She had wanted to trust him; it would have been nice to have someone else to talk to, but something felt... off.

When he had first come stumbling out of the woods, it was hard not to feel sympathy for him. He had been bleeding profusely from a gash across his chest, seemingly steps from death's door. But when she had healed him, she noticed something strange— his skin was hot, burning hot.

It was different from the warmth she felt from Clarke— this was like touching a hot pan, her instinct was to pull away rather than move closer.

She tried to dismiss it as being tied to his injuries somehow, but she noticed it again later when she had touched his arm, feigning amusement at a joke at Clarke's expense.

She wasn't an idiot, she knew Clarke and Huan were having some sort of pissing match, which was the absolute last thing she wanted to get involved with. She had spent enough time around temperamental men to last a lifetime.

It was infuriating, really. Before Huan had showed up, she could have sworn Clarke was finally being real with her. He had been genuine, compassionate.

For a moment, when he had helped her with her necklace, she could have sworn she felt something—emotions that weren't hers.

It was as if... She chased the unfinished thought from her mind.

It didn't matter.

That man had just been a mirage, replaced by the selfish and sarcastic individual she had come to know all too well.

She turned to look at Huan, who was walking beside her on the narrow trail. He was tall, athletic, and he carried himself with an undeniable air of confidence—definitely someone Lizzie would find sexy.

He turned to meet her gaze, flashing a smile of perfectly white teeth. "So, Hope, how did you end up here?" he asked, turning his full attention to her.

"That's a bit of a long story," she answered carefully. She turned to see if Clarke was in earshot, but he remained several paces behind them.

"We've got time. Plus, I'd love to learn more about you," he pressed, bumping his shoulder playfully into hers.

"Well, I guess I didn't have much of a choice…" she said. It was true— if she was going to destroy Malivore, coming here was the only way.

"Did that goon drag you here?" he asked, shooting Clarke a glare over his shoulder.

Suddenly, she felt a flash of anger, but the feeling was not her own. She turned to see Agent Clarke much closer than he was a few moments ago.

"Quite the opposite," Clarke said bitterly. "But that doesn't exactly paint our dear Hope in the best light."

For some reason, his words stung. When she turned to meet his gaze, she could have sworn she saw him wince momentarily.

"Is that so?" Huan asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Good for you, Hope."

She ignored the odd pang of guilt in her chest.

"How much longer until we reach the rock formations?" she asked, changing the subject. "We were using the forest as cover, but recently got a bit turned around."

"Did you encounter a monster too?" Huan asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Was someone looking for you?"

"Yes, we've encountered monsters," she said. "And no, no one is looking for me...not anymore."

"No one is looking for you?" Huan asked. Something about the way he asked the question unsettled her. He was almost... pleased.

"No one's looking for any of us," Clarke said. "That's the deal. You enter the pit and no one remembers you ever existed."

Hope watched Huan's face carefully, searching for signs of shock or distress. But he seemed strangely calm.

"Really?" Huan asked neutrally.

"Yeah, really," Clarke answered. "But you don't seem too surprised— Why's that?"

"I don't believe you," Huan answered lightly. "Plus, even if it's true, I didn't leave anyone important behind."

"I'm sorry," said Hope. Even if Huan wasn't trustworthy, no one deserved to be alone in the world.

She rubbed her pendant between her fingers thoughtfully. Besides Landon, she supposed Clarke didn't have any family on the other side either.

"No worries," Huan said a bit too cheerfully. "I have a feeling I may have found someone new," he finished with a smile.

Hope felt another spike of anger and she had a feeling she knew where it was coming from... Sure enough, when she turned to Clarke, his expression was dark and stormy. He was clearly not pleased with their new companion.

"So, Huan, how much farther?" she asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Not too far," he said. As if to prove his point, the trees did appear to be thinning around them.

"So you never told me, who are you looking for out here?" Huan asked. "I have to say, I'm a bit jealous of whoever it is."

Clarke let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, if you only knew!"

"We're looking for Clarke's father," Hope said, rolling her eyes.

Huan grinned, a look of understanding flashed across his face. It was just one more out of place thing she'd noticed about him.

Clarke seemed confused by Huan's reaction as well. "I can assure you, he's no one you want to meet," he said darkly.

"I'm sure you're right," Huan answered. "Perhaps, I can point you in the right direction and Hope and I can be on our way."

"That's not how this is going to work," she said. "Clarke and I have… an understanding."

"I see," said Huan thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose we'll continue on together...for now."

"That's really not your call," said Clarke irritably. "And I don't know who you think you are, but Hope isn't looking for a new friend or companion or—whatever else you may be thinking ."

"Oh? Have you told yourself that, pal?" Huan asked.

"Excuse me!" Hope interjected. "But I'm right here, and I don't think either of you are grasping the seriousness of our situation right now!"

"I'm sorry, Hope," said Huan, flashing her an apologetic look. "I guess I'm just really grateful for your help... Plus, you're the most incredible girl I've ever met."

She felt a flush creeping up her neck, but she was more uncomfortable than flattered. There was something magnetic about Huan, but for all the warmth he exuded, something about him sent a shiver down her spine.

Clarke was uncharacteristically quiet— she looked back to see him studiously examining his shoes.

She felt an urge to reach out to him, but furiously pushed the feeling down. She hadn't had time to consider Gwyllion's words about their connection yet, but she certainly wasn't going to do that now.

"We're here," said Huan, pulling her from her thoughts. She followed him to the treeline, revealing the sharp cliffs and rock formations just ahead of them.

She felt anxiety seeping into the back of her mind, cold and cloying. They had been closer than she expected and now that they had arrived, she found herself struggling to keep herself together.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder followed by a comforting warmth— she didn't have to turn to know it was Clarke. But as soon as she did look, he pulled back, clenching the hand into a fist at his side.

"Clarke—" she began, but he had already begun marching ahead. It was just as well, she really didn't have an end to that sentence.

Things were getting complicated.

"We have to be careful," said Huan. "I was attacked by that dragon not far from here."

She looked up at the cliffs and felt a sinking feeling in her stomach; she wasn't sure how they were going to find Malivore's lair. She had seriously misjudged the scale of the formations, they were massive.

"Do you know where the suit's father is?" Huan asked.

"No," she said. "I may need to use my magic to find our way." She looked at Clarke, but his back was turned to her. She would likely need to use his blood again as a conduit but it didn't feel right to ask him.

"Cool, more magic!" Huan said enthusiastically.

"Yeah," she said distractedly. "But I need to rest first. I used a lot of energy healing your wound."

Clarke had begun to pace back and forth, running a hand through his hair. He was clearly agitated.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that..." Huan said. "We should probably make camp, then. I was out in the open when the dragon attacked before," he explained.

"Okay," she agreed. "Let's look for an alcove of some kind to spend the night."

They needed to make camp anyway; the dark sky was nearing the pitch black shade it took on every evening.

It was a strange feeling, knowing that time was passing while she was trapped in this dimension. She felt no hunger or thirst, but she still felt tired. She dreaded to think about how much time had passed back at home.

Clarke had come back to join them, but she could see that he was still tense. His jaw was clenched tightly, one of the first quirks she had picked up on.

He was as anxious as she was.

Huan must have picked up on the mood because he said little as they walked between the large rocks, searching for a suitable campsite.

"Over here!" Huan called from a couple of yards away. "This is where we should spend the night."

It was a small cave with a narrow opening— it was dark inside and Hope couldn't tell how deep or far back it may go.

"Fine," said Clarke tightly, heading inside first. She wasn't sure if it was his anxiety or hers, but she felt like choking as she watched him disappear into the darkness.

She forced herself to move, approaching the entrance with trepidation.

"Wait!" shouted Huan. "Let me go in first, to make sure it's safe."

Normally she would have laughed at him. But for some reason, the darkness of the cave unsettled her in a way that she hadn't felt before. So, she nodded, motioning for him to go first.

"I'll catch up with Clarke and call for you if everything checks out alright."

She watched him disappear into the void, just as Clarke had. She held her pendant tightly, trying desperately to shake the uneasy feeling.

* * *

The moments passed slowly as she waited.

She felt exposed standing by herself— It was the first time she had been truly alone since she arrived in Malivore, and she found that she didn't particularly enjoy the feeling.

She scanned the area around her, but there wasn't much to see. Sharp and rugged rock face surrounded her on all sides, giving the impression of being trapped in a large cage.

She could hear the wind kicking up, causing a distinct howling sound as it sliced through the canyons around her. It did nothing to soothe her nerves.

Just as she was about to give up on waiting and venture inside, she heard rocks scattering from somewhere nearby.

She spun on her heel, straining to see in the rapidly encroaching darkness.

There. She could just make out a tall shadow slinking out from behind a particularly imposing boulder.

"Hello, treasure of Malivore," the figure greeted her.

She instinctively took a step back— she could feel her magic sparking in warning.

Danger, danger, danger.

"Who are you?" she asked, backing closer to the cave's entrance, preparing to run to the others if needed.

But the shadow drew closer, revealing a familiar face...

It was Huan.

"Huan?" she asked with uncertainty. "How did you get out of the cave? I've been standing right here the whole time…"

The boy stared at her, amusement playing over his features.

"You're— you're not him, are you?" she asked.

"No. My name is Wei," the boy said. "Huan is my brother."

"Twins?" Hope asked, putting the pieces together.

"Very good, little human," Wei answered.

"Human?" she asked. "Then, you're not...?" She knew the question was foolish the moment it left her lips.

Of course they weren't human.

"No. My brother can be quite convincing though. That's why I sent him along first," Wei explained.

"What do you want?" she asked. "I'm not afraid of you," she added quickly.

"No?" Wei asked with a grin. "Then why do you keep looking over your shoulder, little treasure?"

"Little treasure?" she asked. That was the second time he had called her that.

"Us dragons like collecting treasures," he said. "But alas, you're not ours to collect. Despite how much I think Huan would like to keep you…"

"I should have known," Hope said tightly. "You're both dragons—"

Suddenly the realization struck her — Clarke! He was all alone with Huan in the cave.

She turned to face the entrance, it had been silent ever since Huan had followed Clarke inside. She reached for him through whatever their strange connection was, but felt nothing...not even a sliver of emotion.

"Ah, your companion," Wei said with mock consideration. "I hope you weren't too attached to him."

"I'll kill you both," she said with venom. "That's a promise."

Wei just laughed— it was a cruel sound that caused her hair to stand up on end.

"I'd like to see you try. Few people get between a dragon and their collections, and Huan is quite... protective of his."

"Collection? " she asked, attempting to buy time as she desperately racked her brain for a plan. "What the hell is there to collect here?"

At first she thought he wasn't going to answer— then he gave her a terrifying grin, revealing rows of rapidly sharpening teeth.

"Bones," he hissed.

* * *

**The Huan River (Chinese: 洹河; pinyin: ****Huán Hé ****), or Anyang River (安阳河), is a river in Henan, China, and part of the Hai River basin. The river rises north of Linzhou in northwestern Henan, and joins the Wei River near Neihuang in the northeast of the province.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**(Ryan)**

**In Slavic folklore, the rusalka (plural: rusalki) (Russian: русалка, romanized: ****_rusalka_**** ; Polish: ****_rusałka_**** ) is a female entity, often malicious toward mankind and frequently associated with water. It is also believed, by a few accounts, that rusalki can change their appearance to match the tastes of men they are about to seduce, although a rusalka is generally considered to represent universal beauty, therefore is highly feared yet respected in Slavic culture.**

The air inside the cave was cool and stagnant—a welcome sensation against his flushed skin. Ryan placed his hand on the cave wall to steady himself. The rock was smooth and slightly damp beneath his palm, he tried to focus on the feeling.

It seemed the closer he got to Hope, the less he was able to control his emotions.

For years, he had struggled to hide his emotions away, tucked neatly behind a mask of indifference. It was a survival tool—if people saw what he wanted them to see, he stayed in control.

_Lies, manipulation_... it was all a means to an end.

But he had let Huan get under his skin—he had lost his composure.

The thought bothered him more than he would like to admit and he felt the familiar heat of anger begin to flood his veins once more.

_Why? Why was he so bothered by this?_

He had no time to consider his answer before he heard the echoing sound of footsteps coming from the cave's narrow entrance.

Despite its small opening, the cave opened up dramatically in its interior, boasting high ceilings and a sizable tunnel offshoot.

He turned to the sound of footsteps to find Huan— _alone_.

"Where's Hope?" he asked.

"I told her we'd check things out first," Huan answered. "Just to make sure things are safe."

Ryan laughed. "Hope doesn't need us to complete a safety check. Trust me, she can take care of herself."

"Maybe she just didn't think she had someone capable of taking care of her until now," Huan answered smugly.

"Are you for real?" Ryan asked in disbelief. "Hope saved your ass and now you think _you're _going to be _her _knight in shining armor?"

"I don't care for knights, myself," Huan answered cryptically.

Ryan took a deep breath. He was _not _going to lose his cool again.

"Let's clear the tunnel," Huan said, oblivious to Ryan's internal struggle.

"Fine, if Hope wants us to check things out, let's go," he answered tightly.

The darkness of the cave was already putting him on edge. While they needed shelter, the possibility of monsters lurking in the darkness of the cave had not escaped him.

Huan, however, strolled confidently into the tunnel's open maw. Ryan followed with slightly more hesitation.

The tunnel stretched farther and farther into the cave, leaving him virtually blind in the inky blackness.

"Don't you think we should head back?" he asked Huan. "We have no idea how deep this goes. We could just make camp near the entrance and take turns keeping watch—"

Suddenly, he stepped on something underfoot, causing a strange snapping sound.

"What the hell?" he asked, kicking the object with his foot.

"Don't touch my things," Huan said from several paces ahead of him.

_What? _

"What the hell do you mean?" he asked, squinting in the darkness.

"I _mean_," said Huan with a dramatic pause, "Don't touch my collection!"

Suddenly, Ryan heard a horrible screeching noise followed by an illumination of flame.

Huan's fingers now ended in dangerously hooked claws, which he had used to scrape against the stone wall to spark a wooden torch alight.

Ryan backed up in horror, for once in his life he wished he had been wrong about something— Huan was definitely _not _human.

Abruptly, Huan tossed the torch from the wall into the center of the chamber, setting a central fire pit ablaze.

He had been so distracted by the sudden eruption of light, that he had almost missed what was all around him—_bones. _

Hundreds, perhaps _thousands, _of bones filled the shadowy chamber. Some were neatly stacked in piles, others were scattered across the floor haphazardly.

Some appeared human, while some were distinctly, _other. _There were dinosaur sized bones littered around the room like tinker toys while delicate avian-like bones hung above his head by strings.

With a sinking feeling, he realized what had snapped beneath his foot.

"_What are you? _" he asked, still backing slowly towards the tunnel.

"I'm surprised a son of Malivore does not recognize me," Huan answered with a wicked grin, revealing sharp rows of teeth.

"_Dragon," _Ryan answered, feeling a pit growing in his stomach.

Dragons were the reason his father was created— the ultimate enemy of Malivore.

"Very good, suit" Ryan answered with a snarl. "Too bad you weren't smart enough to figure it out sooner."

"What have you done with Hope?" he asked, not bothering to hide the panic in his voice.

"Oh, nothing," Huan answered with a shrug. "I sent my brother to pick her up."

"Your _brother?" _Ryan asked in alarm. "What's the point in that? You weren't strong enough to kill us alone?"

Huan laughed, "Of course I could kill you both alone!"

"Then what?" Ryan asked, trying to think of a plan to get back to Hope.

"I'm not going to _kill _Hope— just bring her to Malivore" he answered. "I mean, because you've been taking _forever." _

"_Excuse me?" _Ryan asked. "What do you know about that?"

"I know that Malivore told you to bring him Hope Mikaelson and you've yet to show up. You can't blame him for sending out reinforcements."

"Hope is _my _responsibility," said Ryan.

"Not anymore. Malivore's sent out the call— any monster who brings him the tribred alive will be given unbridled freedom in Malivore's new world," Huan explained with glee.

"Why would he do that?" Ryan asked in disbelief, "Dragons are the mortal enemy of Malivore."

"Yeah, well, spend a few thousand eternities together and alliances form," Huan said with a shrug. His face was truly terrifying illuminated by the flickering firelight.

"Oh, and don't bother trying to leave just yet, your daddy wants to talk with you," Huan said.

"What do you mean?" Ryan asked, glancing over his shoulder to the safety of the tunnel behind him.

"I mean," Huan started in an exasperated tone, "that Malivore has a message for you."

Without warning, Huan launched himself forward, grasping onto Ryan's shoulders and spinning him around. Off to the side was a dark pit of sand— just like he and Hope had fallen into earlier.

"Have a nice chat," Huan said before pushing him headfirst into the dark sand.

* * *

Just like last time, Ryan found himself sinking rapidly into the sand. He knew no amount of struggling would help, so, with no other choice, he let his mind blank and accepted the oncoming darkness.

Sure enough, in moments, he was suspended in the dark void he knew all too well. The pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears was the only sound. The panic began to bleed in from the edges of his mind, saturating his consciousness with fear.

"You have failed me," came a rumbling voice from the darkness.

Despite knowing his father would speak with him, the sound of his booming voice still sent waves of terror through his body.

"Hello, father," he replied quietly.

"You have yet to bring the tribred to me and time grows short," his father answered.

"I have not failed you— we've simply had some minor delays," he tried to explain calmly. Despite his best efforts, he could hear his voice wobbling on each word.

"UNACCEPTABLE!" Malivore shouted into the darkness, causing Ryan's chest to vibrate with the sound.

"It's the monsters in this dimension!" Ryan tried to explain, "We've had too many encounters with—-"

"I have sent others to complete the task you are too weak to do," his father said with disdain. "I feel her magic on you, you have let her claim you."

"What?" Ryan asked, genuinely confused. "I haven't let her do anything to me— if anything, this connection has helped me earn her trust. She suspects nothing!"

There was silence in the void. For a terrifying moment, Ryan feared his father had left him alone again, to languish in the darkness.

Then he spoke, "If you think you can use this connection to manipulate her into trusting you, then do so. However, be warned, I do not care who brings the tribred to me. You have the same offer as any other creature here, bring me the tribred and earn your freedom."

Before Ryan could respond, he felt himself being catapulted out of the darkness and onto a hard, stone floor.

_A hard stone floor covered with bones. _

He stood up in a hurry, sending bone fragments scattering in his wake.

He didn't know what to make of the conversation he had with his father. The most puzzling part was his mention of the connection between Hope and himself.

While he knew there was certainly something unusual about it, he hadn't realized it had marked him like a brand.

_Was this some kind of plan Hope had created to manipulate him? _

_Or was this an accident that he could exploit? _

A part of him felt guilty at the thought. They were much better acquainted now than the last time he had spoken with his father. However, he couldn't let that fact get in the way of his freedom.

The pain and isolation of being locked in the void— _it was simply too much to bear again. _

Plus, his father wanted Hope alive. If he delivered her to him, he would have completed his bargain. And Hope wanted to be taken to Malivore anyway.

_Win, win. _

With that thought, he turned to the tunnel's entrance, determined to find Hope and reclaim his shot at freedom.

However, the exit to the chamber had been sealed by a large boulder. He ran to it anyway, pushing in vain against its immense weight. It was then that he notices the deep claw marks covering the rock's surface.

_Huan. He had trapped him here. _

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, only to realize it came back covered in the dark, wet sand of the pit.

_Just perfect. _

He scanned the chamber for another exit, but found nothing but piles of bones, illuminated by firelight.

He tried to temper his panic— he _hated _being trapped.

_Trapped and alone. _

He tried to calm himself by watching the flames of the fire— at least he could find comfort in the fact that he wasn't in the dark.

However, as he watched the fire he noticed that it flickered oddly; the flames seemed to dance erratically in the pit, almost as if there was a breeze…

He looked up the cave wall and noticed a small opening a good ten feet above his head.

If he had any chance of getting out of here, he would have to make it up there. He looked around, searching for anything that could he could climb.

Bones. It was the obvious, if not unsettling answer. Holding back his disgust, he began to pile them against the cave wall underneath the opening. It was difficult to get them to stack without collapsing, but his desperation spurred him to keep trying.

At last, the pile was large enough for him to climb. He had no idea where the opening would lead, but it would have to be better than _this_.

He began his ascent, clamoring over the bones as he struggled to keep his footing. His fingers had begun to bleed from clinging to the rocky wall, but he pushed on.

Suddenly, the mountain of bones beneath him gave way, leaving him dangling from a small handhold in the wall. He was only about a foot from the opening— he had to try. He reached with his right arm, pushing his muscles as hard as they would go.

Then—_ success! _He pulled himself up into the opening on his stomach, sending loose rock and bones crashing down below him.

He could distinctly hear the sound of water coming from somewhere up ahead. Water was good, water meant washing off this muck and finding a way out.

He tried not to think about Hope. He knew that she could take care of herself, but if the dragons got her to his father before he did— he didn't want to think about _that _outcome.

The tunnel he was climbing sloped downward, depositing him back at ground level, or perhaps even below.

The sound of water hadn't been misleading, there was some type of lake here, deep and clear. He couldn't tell if his eyes were adjusting to the darkness or if it was somehow better lit in this portion of the cave.

He looked around for a light source, but found that it seemed to be the water itself that was softly glowing.

He hesitated to wade into it, it could be some type of trap…

Just then, he caught a glimpse of movement.

"Who's there?" he called, sounding braver than he felt.

A face peered up at him from behind a boulder at the lake's shore; it was a young woman, with auburn hair and bright blue eyes.

_Not unlike Hope… _

"Who are you?" he asked more gently. He couldn't say why, but he was drawn to her—

The woman dove into the water, causing a cascade of ripples to make their way to the shore.

"Don't go!" he called. "_Please_, I need to get out of here…"

The young woman reemerged from the water; she was clothed only in a white nightgown. The dress was transparent, showing every curve of her body. But it was her hair and eyes that drew him in the most. She was beautiful, _angelic. _

The woman smiled, beckoning him into the water.

Without hesitation, he followed, relishing in the feeling of the cool water cleansing his skin and clothes.

The woman moved deeper into the water, smiling seductively over her shoulder.

He would do _anything _to reach her…

* * *

**(Hope) **

As soon as Wei transitioned into his dragon form, Hope knew she was in trouble.

Wei was a sight to behold— he was a dragon of emerald green, with scales that glowed even in the darkness. Unlike the last dragon she had encountered, his body was slim and streamlined. He had no wings, but he soared through the air with unearthly grace.

It seemed as if he had materialized straight from an ancient Chinese scroll.

"_Incendia! _" she shouted, sending torrents of flames in his direction.

Unsurprisingly, the fire did nothing to stop his advance, forcing her to duck low as he swooped overhead with his claws outstretched.

_Don't use fire against a dragon, _she scolded herself.

The only advantage she had was that Wei had admitted that he wasn't trying to kill her— just abduct her.

_Much better. _

If fire wasn't going to work, she'd have to think of something else— _and quickly. _

Wei came towards her again, scraping her back with his claws as she dove into a small crevice between two boulders.

_Shit, it hurt. _

Suddenly, she had an idea. She jumped up from her hiding place, waving her arms above her head.

"Over here, Wei! Come and get me!" she shouted.

Wei let out a terrifying snarl as he barreled down on her, just barely missing her before she ducked back down between the rocks.

He let out a strangled cry of frustration as he clawed desperately above her head.

"_Vados!" _she yelled, causing the rocks around her to explode outwards, sending stone shrapnel in all directions.

She had closed her eyes, but she heard Wei let out a thundering howl; the unmistakable sound of a wounded animal.

A quick look confirmed it— he was lying deathly still on the rocky ground.

The explosion had left deep gashes across his mighty serpentine body. But then she noticed the sharp piece of rock protruding from his neck, nearly severing his head from his body— _He was dead. _

Just then, she heard footsteps behind her.

_"What did you do?" _the voice asked.

She turned— it was Huan.

"You lied to me," she said coolly.

"You _killed _my brother," Huan said, shoulders shaking and his voice seething with rage.

"Where's Clarke?" she asked.

"In Hell," Huan answered sharply.

"If you hurt him, I'll kill you too," she said, clenching her fists at her side.

"Not if I kill you first!" he shouted, rapidly transforming before her eyes into an identical green dragon to his brother.

Hope rolled out of the way just in time to dodge his first strike, but wasn't so lucky the next time— His claws dragged across her back, crisscrossing the marks his brother had given her just minutes earlier.

She screamed out in pain, tucking herself behind a rock avoiding a surely fatal blow.

She focused trying to reach out for Clarke's energy, but found nothing.

_What did it mean? Did he kill him? _

She let the thought fuel her rage and her magic.

She focused on the shard of rock imbedded in Wei's throat and willed her magic to wrap itself around it, sending it soaring through the air and into Huan's side.

He let out a guttural cry, violently twisting his head around to meet her gaze.

_He was wounded_, it would only take one more blow to end it— she reached for her magic, all too eager to assist.

But before she could unleash the dam of magical energy, Huan turned and shot off into the dark sky.

"Coward!" she screamed into the darkness, her voice cracking on the word.

But it was too late, he was gone.

She pushed herself up from the ground and ran to the cave, dreading what she would find. She tried not to think— just to act.

Her footsteps echoed through the cave like claps of thunder.

"Clarke!" she shouted. "Are you here?!"

She came to a tunnel at the back of the cavern and followed it blindly. The distance stretched on and on, causing her heart to beat erratically in her chest.

Then she saw a dim light up ahead.

"Clarke!" she called again.

But the entrance was blocked by a large boulder.

"Stand back!" she shouted to whoever may be inside.

"_Vados!" _

The boulder sealing the entrance exploded inwards, revealing a chamber filled floor to ceiling with bones.

"_Oh my God_," she whispered, pausing for the first time since she had entered the cave.

It was truly a horrible sight to behold.

Her attention was drawn swiftly to a dark pit of sand at the back of room— _Malivore _.

She noticed that there was a trail leading out of the pit and over towards a pile of bones. _Clarke— it must have been him. _

No wonder she hadn't been able to feel him— the sand from Malivore blocked her magic.

_Had he climbed up there? _She followed the pile of bones with her eyes up to a small opening in the cave wall.

Her magic was sharp and electric in her veins, still charged from her fight. It wanted to be used again and she was happy to oblige.

She let her magic pour out of her, tearing down the wall.

The new hole revealed a steep sloping path, accompanied by the distant sound of running water.

Almost in a trance, she followed the sound, praying that Clarke was alright. He _had _to be alright.

She didn't know why it mattered so much, but, oh God_— it did. _

Suddenly, she came upon a lake, glowing softly in the darkness of the cavern. It was beautiful, _ethereal_ even.

"Hello?" she asked, hesitant of disturbing such a peaceful place.

Then she saw him— Clarke was floating in the water, bare chested, with his arms encircling a supernaturally beautiful young woman.

"Clarke—?" she called out hesitantly, taking a careful step back.

_Was this real? _

He looked in her direction, a serene smile on his face.

"What—?" she asked, confusion and some unknown emotion coursing through her mind, jumbling her thoughts.

The woman was running her pale fingers through his damp curly hair, a knowing smile on her perfect face.

It was too much, she felt like she was going to break. She let out a strangled cry, somewhere between a sob and a scream, covering her mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound.

Suddenly, Clarke's expression changed, his face falling.

"Hope?" he asked.

But it was too late, she was already running out of the cave, tears blurring every step.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

**(Ryan)**

"Clarke?" the voice echoed through the chamber, high pitched and uncertain.

He turned to face the young woman across the lake— she was watching him with a pained expression on her heart shaped face.

_Why did someone so beautiful look so sad? _

The woman in his arms began to run her fingers through his hair, bringing his attention back to her. She smiled, the glow of the lake reflecting in her light blue eyes, causing them to sparkle like starlight.

_Two goddesses, one of pleasure and one of pain… _

The woman across the lake let out a sharp cry, fracturing his contemplation. It was a terrible sound that caused his heart to ache.

A moment passed in silence as the water ran down his face.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Then, realization struck— "Hope?" he questioned.

But it was too late, she was running out of chamber.

He turned to the woman floating next to him, her beauty turning cold. Those eyes that had just enchanted him now appeared to be made of ice.

Her grip around his waist turned mean as she dug her nails into his flesh.

"Let me go!" he shouted, desperately trying to pry himself from her grip.

"You came to my domain willingly," she said. "You won't be leaving the same way."

"_Nothing_ is going to stop me from going after her," he bit back at her.

"We'll see," said the woman before using her impossibly tight grip to pull him under the lake's surface.

He gasped, causing lakewater to rapidly fill his lungs.

The woman continued to drag him down; the sensation was similar to being pulled into Malivore's pit, triggering an instinctual panic.

He thrashed in her grip, but her arms were like iron chains.

Finally, they hit the lake bottom, causing silt to stir up around them in swirling clouds.

The woman floated above him, her white nightgown floating weightless in the water. He had no idea why she had tempted him before— her cruelty clung to her like a shroud, distorting the beauty he had once thought she possessed.

As if drained of color by the water, the warm auburn of her hair faded into a pale blonde. Her eyes had lost all of their depth, turning steely grey.

With unnatural force, she placed a large rock upon his chest, pinning him to the lakebed. The pressure was severe and he felt his lungs collapsing under the weight.

She could drown him, but he would resurrect, drowning over and over again until she released him. The terror seized him, this was worse than being stuck in the void.

He watched her form float gracefully back to the surface, a wicked smile on her lips.

He looked around desperately, hoping to find some way to break free. It was then that he saw he wasn't alone.

_Huan wasn't the only bone collector. _

Next to him were the remains of dozens of people. Skulls met his gaze, their empty sockets were cold and unsympathetic.

_If she couldn't keep them, she drowned them_, Ryan realized with horror.

His vision was already starting to grow dark around the edges, he was going to drown— possibly endlessly.

He thought of Hope, she had seen him with that woman, that _creature, _and thought— _what? _

Surely, she must have realized that this was another monster of some kind.

But her expression had been so pained, had she thought that he had left her? Was she… _jealous?_

The thought shot a bolt of adrenaline through his system.

He focused on her, _her face, her eyes, her fierceness… _he could feel her through their strange connection. She was out there and she was _hurting_.

He saw visions of claw marks, deep and angry down her back— he could sense that her chest was also in pain.

Suddenly, he was filled with a burst of energy, white hot and electric. Ryan focused inward, centering himself. This was her— somehow he was drawing from her energy, _from her magic._

It was raw and powerful, his for the taking.

He _had _to get to her.

In an explosion of strength he pushed up on the rock crushing his chest, finding it as light as pebble.

He had no time to be surprised, he simply followed the energy's pull to the surface, emerging with a gasp.

The creature who had drowned him turned in shock from her resting spot by the lake's edge.

"_How?_" she hissed at him.

Ryan didn't delay, he simply reached out a hand, causing an unseen force to send her flying backwards into the rocks.

He was shaking, _but empowered_.

He ran out of the chamber, following Hope's energy signature. Whatever had happened under the lake had awakened something new, he could sense her like a phantom limb.

He ran through the chamber of bones, out the tunnel, and exited the cave.

It was darker than when they had first arrived, and he could feel a strange electrical current all around him.

It was the unmistakable feeling of a storm brewing.

He desperately searched for Hope, pausing for the first time since breaking the lake's surface.

He couldn't see her, but he could _feel_ her, calling out to him like a beacon.

He followed the feeling, trusting his new sense to lead him to her.

"Hope!" he yelled into the darkness. "HOPE!"

He felt a change in her energy, she had heard him, but she wasn't welcoming. He felt a spike of anger shoot through her, interlacing itself with her pain and sadness.

_It was all so intense. _He felt like he was going to throw up, but he pressed onwards.

He didn't care if she didn't want him. He _needed _her.

He found her at last, sitting against a large boulder. She had her back turned to him, head in her hands.

The gashes down her back were even more horrible in person than they had been in his vision. The back of her shirt had been torn to ribbons, leaving the remaining fabric drenched in blood.

"Hope?" he asked tentatively.

He knew she could hear him, but she didn't turn.

"Hope, what happened to you?" he asked, drawing closer.

Her back stiffened, muscles rigid.

"Stay back, Clarke," she said quietly.

"Did Huan do this?" he asked angrily, ignoring her request to stay away.

He crouched next to her, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

She finally turned to face him— her face was streaked with tears.

"_Hope—_" he began, but the look in her eyes made him pause. She was clearly in pain, but she was angry too. It was the kind of look she had given him when they first met.

_This was such a dangerous game they were playing. _

"Who was that?" she asked tightly. "The woman in the cave?"

"Some kind of spirit," he answered carefully.

"I thought you were in danger and I—" her voice broke off. "Why did you go to her?" she asked.

"I _was_ in danger! She tried to _drown _me," he answered.

"But you went to her anyways," she accused.

"She had me under some sort of spell," he quipped back. "She looked... her hair and her eyes…"

"What?" Hope asked sharply. "You were _attracted_ to her?" she asked.

"You're not making any sense right now," he replied. "She's obviously some kind of creature that seduces men. And at first I thought she was—"

"_What_?" she interrupted him.

"..._you_," he answered.

"Oh _yes_, the blonde Victoria's Secret model is clearly my twin," she spat back.

"Wait, you saw her as blonde?" he asked.

"Wha— of course!" she answered. "What does that have to do with anything?" she asked.

"Nothing," he answered, swallowing thickly.

"Did you kill Huan?" he asked, changing the subject.

"No. But I did kill his brother," she said darkly.

Ryan smiled slightly, her darkness was just as terrifying as the spirit in the cave, but somehow it only complimented her beauty rather than distort it.

_Wait— _since when was he thinking about her like that?

"Clarke, if we're ever going to make it to Malivore in one piece, you've got to be more discerning," she said.

"_What?" _he asked. "You're the one who took in Huan like a stray puppy!" he shouted.

"I did _not," _she asserted, fire flashing in her eyes. "I didn't trust him either, but I just happen to be better at hiding my emotions than you."

"_Oh?" _he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose your display just now at the lake was an example of your master emotional management skills?"

He regretted it the moment the words left his lips. He could see the flash of hurt cross her face, but even worse, he felt her emotions stab at his heart.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She just looked up at him from beneath her long lashes.

"Why haven't your wounds healed?" he asked.

"I used up too much energy and magic getting to you," she explained. "I think it's taken a toll on me."

Without hesitation, he reached for a rock on the ground and dragged it across his palm, wincing slightly at the pain.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyes growing wide.

"I'm lending you some energy," he said. "Turn around."

Surprisingly, she complied without retort, exposing the claw marks on her back.

He reached out his hand, placing his palm softly on her back. He felt her take a shuddering breath at the contact.

He pressed firmer, ensuring the blood from his hand made contact with the open wounds on her back. A familiar feeling of heat bloomed between them, warming their point of contact with magical synergy.

He closed his eyes and focused on pouring back some of the energy he had felt underwater back into Hope.

_Heal. Please heal._

Amazingly, the deep cuts on her back began to close up before his eyes. She sighed in relief, leaning back into his touch.

"Hope—" he choked out, leaning in closer to her.

"Can I hold you?" he asked softly.

Her expression changed in an instant, panic playing across her features. It was like he had cornered a wild animal.

"I'm sorry," he amended quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. "I don't know why I asked that—"

But shockingly, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms hesitantly around his chest and resting her head softly on his shoulder.

The warmth that coursed between them was overwhelming, he felt like his veins held liquid fire.

It was then that he realized he was still shirtless from his swim in the cave.

_Skin to skin…_

He tentatively returned the gesture, afraid of frightening her.

He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had hugged anyone. It was something that he had convinced himself that a creature like him didn't need.

_Independence and isolation_…they had always gone hand in hand.

She pulled back gently, meeting his eyes.

"I'm glad that you're okay," she began. "But don't read too much into this. I still don't trust you— _I can't_."

He found himself nodding.

"But we're stuck here," she continued. "I brought you here and, for better or worse, we have an agreement."

Her eyes were so deep blue, he felt like he was drowning all over again.

"I keep my word," she said, filling the silence. "But if you betray me or put the people I love in danger, I won't hesitate to destroy you," she finished.

Her words were sobering, dredging up guilt from the depths of his soul.

_That is, if he had one to begin with._

Just then, a horrific crack of thunder shook the ground around them.

_It was going to storm, and soon._

"We need to get out of here," he said, standing up.

She followed his lead, standing next to him.

"I think this is somehow Huan's doing," she said. "When he fled our fight he seemed to stir up some kind of strange weather…"

Ryan nodded in understanding.

"Do you think he'll come back for me?" she asked.

He froze— how much did she know about Malivore's plan to send monsters after her?

"His brother Wei told me that they were going to bring me to Malivore," she explained.

He stayed quiet, waiting for her to reveal what else she knew.

"I'm not going to be dragged in like a cat with a mouse," she said defiantly. "When I get to Mailvore it's going to be under my own power."

"We need to be careful," cautioned Ryan. "You should stay with me."

She quirked an eyebrow at him.

But before he could explain, the heavens opened up, releasing a virtual deluge in moments.

"Dammit!" he yelled as sheets of icy rain fell out of the sky, cutting into his skin like knives.

The downpour was accompanied by blinding flashes of lightning and great bellows of thunder. If that wasn't bad enough, creatures of all kinds began to wail, moan, and scream in the darkness.

He could already tell that the water would easily flood the canyon.

"We need to find shelter," he shouted over the deafening sound of rain and monsters.

They both looked back to the cave's entrance, looming in the distance.

In silent agreement, they headed in the opposite direction, scrambling up the rocky path ahead of them.

Just then, another terrifying scream echoed through the night.

_Wherever they were going, they better get there quickly._


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

_**In Catalan legend and popular culture, the Pesanta (**__**Catalan pronunciation: **__**[pəˈzantə]) is an enormous dog (or sometimes a cat) that goes into people's houses in the night and puts itself on their chests making it difficult for them to breathe and causing them the most horrible nightmares. The Pesanta is black and hairy, with steel paws, but with holes so it can't take anything.**_

**(Hope)**

_She was soaked to the bone._

The incessant rain had propelled them up the rocky cliffside, seeking safety from the rising water in the canyon below. If that wasn't enough to drive them, the howling of monsters in the darkness certainly served as motivation.

They had finally found a suitable overhang that provided some shelter from the driving sheets of rain. However, it did little to protect them from the howling wind that still sliced its way through every crevice in the rock.

She was sitting next to Clarke in the cramped alcove—they hadn't spoken since their reunion outside of the cave and an awkward silence hung heavy between them.

She had hugged him— Like actually reached out and _hugged _him.

Just a few days ago, the idea of hugging Agent Clarke would have been inconceivable. But now…it was _complicated_.

Whatever this connection was, it was definitely getting stronger by the day. She let her mind wander to what Gwyllion had said—they were bonded physically, magically… _emotionally._

She buried her head in her hands, suddenly much too warm, despite her soaking wet clothes.

Clarke, on the other hand, was shaking like a leaf.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

_Of course he wasn't— _he had left his shirt in the cave, leaving him exposed and shivering.

She couldn't help but notice how lean and muscular he was—_like a swimmer_.

It wasn't like she was _trying_ to check him out or anything… he just seemed to be shirtless—_a lot. _First at the sand pit, then with the river monster, then again in the cave...

_God, why was he always losing his shirt?_

"I'm fine," he responded, pulling his knees closer to his chest, effectively bringing her back to reality.

"_Clearly,_" she retorted, rolling her eyes.

He just shrugged, evidently not in the mood to argue.

"Should I make a fire?" she asked, looking for something to use as fuel.

"No," he answered resolutely. "It's not worth it; It'll only advertise our location to whatever's been howling out there."

He was right, starting a fire would be like rolling out the welcome mat for whatever was lurking out in the darkness.

"Okay, let me try something then," she said, untying her jacket from around her waist.

It was still wet, but it had made it through her brawl with the dragons relatively unscathed.

"W—what?" he asked, trying and failing to stop his teeth from chattering.

"_Recoquo_," she murmured, running her hands over the jacket. The garment began to change, reforming itself into a dark tunic, big enough for him to wear as a shirt.

"Here," she said, offering it to him.

He hesitated for a moment before accepting her offer.

"Thank you," he said, pulling it over his head. "You didn't have to do that. Your shirt— it's still torn."

"I can fix it," she said, pulling on the hem. "Little alterations aren't hard, as long as I have the material to work with."

"_Exsarcio_," she whispered.

She felt the fabric pull as it stitched itself back together. The sensation reminded her of how Clarke had healed the scratches across her back—he had been so close then too. She felt her cheeks growing warm again.

"Are you okay?" Clarke asked her. "You look like you have a fever."

"I'm fine," she said a little too quickly. "I mean, I think I'm just shaken up from everything…"

He nodded, thoughtful.

The awkward silence descended upon them once more, leaving each of them alone with their thoughts.

She noticed him clenching and unclenching his jaw from the corner of her eye. He was clearly agitated by something, but she wasn't sure if she should ask.

Apparently, she didn't need to—their connection flared up once more. She could feel his emotions brushing against her mind.

He was definitely wrestling with _something_. It was a conflicted feeling, laced with a distinct sense of nervousness.

Hope wished that he would just say whatever was bothering him, being stuck on the periphery of his mental state was driving her crazy.

"Clarke—" she began, but he interrupted her.

"I'm sorry if what I did made you uncomfortable," he said. "Earlier, I mean. When I asked to—" he let the thought trail off. He was distinctly avoiding eye contact.

"No," she assured him. "I mean, it was actually kind of… _nice_."

He seemed surprised by her answer, smiling in response, albeit somewhat sheepishly.

She just stared at him. She didn't know what to say when he was like this—when he let the mask slip and actually acted like a person. It made her…_nervous. _

"I'm just glad that I'm getting to know Landon's brother," she added in an attempt to fill the silence.

"Ah," he said simply. He moved to get up, taking care not to brush against her as he did so.

"What are you doing?" she asked with uncertainty.

"Moving over there," he said, nodding to the opposite side of the overhang.

"I'm going to try to get some sleep," he said as he laid down on his side, facing away from her.

The space was so cramped that he was only about six feet away, but the message was clear— there might as well have been a wall between them.

"Oh, okay," she answered. "I guess I will too."

He made a non-committal noise, keeping his back to her. His lanky frame barely fit in the space and she could tell that his feet were probably getting wet.

She curled up on her side, wrapping her arms around her chest.

She hated moments like this when she had to face the truth that she still hadn't completed her mission.

She had to face the reality that the longer she spent in this dimension, an untold number of days were unfolding at home. Her friends could be in danger, all because she hasn't been able to track down Malivore.

What if she is too late and Malivore ends up escaping before she can destroy him? Or worse, what if she does the wrong thing and ends up causing another death?

Her mother's final moments flashed before her eyes, escaping from the box of memories she tried to keep contained.

Her mother, father, Elijah… all of the people she had lost. It had been her fault, directly or indirectly, it didn't matter.

She felt like crying, like breaking down completely, but she couldn't—not yet. So she bit her lip instead, so hard it began to bleed. It was what she needed— she focused on the pain, losing herself to the feeling.

"Hope!" Clarke snapped.

She froze, his voice pulled her from her panic, but she didn't dare turn around.

"I can _feel _you. I don't know what you're thinking about, but just—just try to _breathe_," he said, somewhat softer this time.

"I'm sorry," she said weakly.

_If she said anything more, she was afraid she'd never stop._

He sighed.

"I know," he said finally. At first it struck her as an odd thing to say, but she figured he _did_ know. Surely, he could feel just how sorry she was— about _everything_.

They were quiet after that, and she urged sleep to overtake her troubled mind.

—

Hope awoke with a start, panicked and confused; she wasn't sure when she had finally managed to fall asleep, but her stiff muscles indicated that she had been out for a while.

A mysterious feeling of unease coursed through her, accompanied by the distinct feeling of being watched.

She bolted upright, looking around for the feeling's source, but it had become so dark that she could scarcely see a few feet in front of her.

Instinctually, she looked for Clarke, finding she could vaguely make out his form in the darkness.

However, the longer she looked, the more something seemed off—the shape seemed much larger than it should be.

"_Post tenebras spero lucem," _she whispered, summoning a glowing orb in the palm of her hand.

She gasped—the light revealed a monstrous, dog-like creature sitting on Clarke's chest.

The creature was covered in dark, shaggy fur and appeared to be using its strangely shaped silver paws to hold Clarke down.

"Hey!" she shouted, preparing to cast a spell, but she hesitated—if she wasn't careful, she could accidentally hit Clarke too.

The creature turned to face her, emitting a low, guttural growl.

Before she could yell to wake up Clarke, the creature leapt off of him and ran out of the alcove, vanishing like a living shadow into the darkness.

_What the hell was that?_

"_Erghhhh—" _

She turned her attention back to Clarke, who was currently groaning in his sleep.

"Hey! Wake up," she called to him, still keeping an eye out into the darkness, in case the creature returned.

"Clarke!" she called again, turning her full attention back to him when he didn't respond.

He began to shake rather violently, almost as if he was wrestling with an invisible foe. The feeling of unease she felt earlier returned, even worse than before.

It felt like she was having a panic attack, but Clarke was clearly the one who was in distress.

"_What_ did that thing do to you?" she whispered, moving to his side.

She raised a hand to shake him awake, but paused— if she touched him, would that wake him up, or make things worse?

"No!" Clarke shouted emphatically in his sleep, thrashing once again. She was genuinely afraid he was going to hurt himself.

"Clarke, wake up. It's okay—you're okay," she tried to assure him.

Just then, she noticed a single tear running down his cheek. She couldn't tell if it was the result of sadness or pain, but it didn't matter. She wasn't going to let him suffer any longer.

She reached out and grabbed his arm, shaking him as gently as she could. The feeling of anxiety multiplied tenfold as soon as she made contact.

She couldn't be sure whether it was something the creature had done, or their connection, or both, but the feeling was overwhelming.

She closed her eyes to steady herself, but as soon as she did, she felt as if the ground had fallen out beneath her. She was suddenly weightless.

She opened her eyes in panic, bringing the world back into focus. The only problem was that it wasn't the right world, at least, she wasn't in the alcove anymore.

She was standing in someone's living room. It was furnished with expensive looking antiques and floor to ceiling bookshelves.

_Where was she? _

"Gwyllion?" she asked hesitantly, figuring this may be another example of faerie glamour. But there was no response.

She took a closer look at the room; it reminded her of Dr. Satlzman's office, although more foreboding. Some of the objects on the shelves had a distinctly dark aura about them—including what appeared to be an actual human skull.

_Lovely. _

She moved closer to the shelf, running her fingers across the books' spines. Some of these books were seriously old— and _rare. _

Most of them appeared to be on mythology and folklore. She recognized Greek, Latin, French, German… but there were many more languages she didn't recognize. Whoever owned these books must be some kind of researcher.

There was a desk in the corner with a laptop and notebook placed neatly on top. It was so tidy that she found it hard to believe that anyone actually lived here. She opened up the notebook to the page marked by a red silk ribbon.

She held the ribbon gently in her hand, feeling a strange desire to possess it. She hastily tied it around her wrist, feeling an immediate sense of peace.

_Odd._

She glanced down at the page, finding it filled with notes in a tight, spidery cursive. Hope squinted, trying to make out the stranger's writing, but it was nearly impossible.

She had lost herself in concentration when suddenly, she heard an ominous click behind her.

She spun around to find Clarke standing behind her, his gun aimed squarely at her chest.

"Clarke!" she yelped in surprise. "What are you—?"

"Who the _hell_ are you and how did you get into my apartment?" he asked, moving his finger to the trigger.

_This was going to be a problem… _


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

**(Hope)**

"I repeat— who _the_ _hell _are you?" Clarke asked her, gun still raised.

"My name is Hope," she said carefully, raising her hands in surrender. "Believe it or not, we know each other. We're..."

Hope paused—_ What should she say? _ She had no idea how to classify their relationship.

"Yes?" he asked impatiently.

"Friends," she said finally.

He laughed bitterly.

"I don't have _ friends," _he said, placing emphasis on the word. "And even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn't let them riffle through my personal things."

She looked behind her at the notebook still lying open on the desk.

_ Oops. _

"That's my bad," she said. "But maybe we can just…talk?" she asked hopefully, backing up into the desk, feeling a sudden pain.

_ "Ow!" _ she said, turning to find that she had scraped her arm on the sharp edge of the glass desktop. To her horror, she saw that she was bleeding. _ Actually bleeding_. Whatever this dimension was, she could get hurt in it.

_ And Clarke had a gun… _

"What did you do?" Clarke snapped. He had rolled up his sleeve and was studying his arm.

"I felt your pain, but there's nothing there…" he said, clearly perplexed.

"Clarke," she said hesitantly, "I don't know how to explain this, but we're connected somehow. And whatever this place is—it isn't _ real _."

Clarke raised his gun again, although he left his finger off the trigger.

"What did you do to me—_ What are you? _" he asked.

"Um, that's complicated," she answered with a nervous laugh. "But trust me, I'm not here to hurt you. We're sort of—partners. We're stuck in Malivore's pit together…"

His expression changed in an instant; she watched his eyes grow wide as the color drained from his face, leaving his complexion ashen.

"You're lying," he said resolutely. "If we _ were _ in the pit, none of this would exist. There would be nothingness, darkness, isolation _ — _" his voice broke off on the word.

Hope played anxiously with the pendant around her neck. She couldn't think of a single thing to say that would make the situation better.

Even worse, she could feel echoes of his pain, radiating off of him in waves. Whatever that dog-like creature had done to him, it hadn't severed their physical or emotional connection.

"That's what I thought," he said, taking her silence as confirmation. She swallowed thickly as she watched him move his finger back to the trigger once more.

"I know you don't believe me," she said. "I know how much your father hurt you, but I _ need _ you to trust me. _ " _

"You know about my father?" he asked, his tone growing quiet.

"Yes," she said. "Ryan, trust me, _ please_."

"What did you call me?" he asked softly. Surprise played across his features, replacing the torment that had been there just moments earlier.

_ Oh. _

"Well, we're friends, remember?" she asked, suddenly feeling flushed. "You, um, told me to call you that," she said.

"That seems unlikely," he replied, stone faced.

"Well, I _ was _a wolf about to murder you," she said, laughing unsteadily.

"You're a werewolf," he said in confirmation.

"Yes. Well, in part," she said. "Could you…put the gun down now?" she asked.

"If we're really, '_friends,' _then how did we end up in Malivore's dimension together?" he asked. "The only ones who end up there are on Triad's orders."

_ Shit. _ If she told Clarke the truth, he'd never trust her. But what else could she do? He'd get back his memories back eventually—_right? _

"I'll tell you," she said. "As long as you put the gun down first," she said firmly, crossing her arms across her chest.

He just stared at her for a moment, standing his ground. She jutted out her chin in defiance. If he could be stubborn, so could she.

Surprisingly, he obliged, holstering his weapon at his side. He gestured for her to continue.

Satisfied, Hope took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever fallout might result from what she had to say.

"Well, you see, I sort of…dragged you in with me," she said quickly, not daring to look him in the eyes.

"You _ what? _" he asked, voice turning icy.

"It's complicated!" she snapped. "You were being an asshole and I really just wanted to make sure that you weren't running around causing havoc while I was trying to save the world—"

"Stop!" he snapped, interrupting her rambling. "We're quite obviously _ not _ friends, Hope _ ," _he said.

Something about the way he said her name made her tremble.

"I don't trust you," he continued. "And if you were smart, you shouldn't trust me either," he said, moving towards her.

There was something predatory in his gait. He had said something similar when they first arrived in Malivore—she may have been letting her guard down too much around him lately.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, readying herself to use magic if necessary.

He moved his jacket aside, revealing a pair of silver handcuffs attached to his belt.

"Are you _ kidding _ me?" she asked in disbelief. "Triad actually equips their thugs with handcuffs?"

Clarke ignored her.

"Or maybe you're just a cop wannabe?" she asked. He was glaring daggers, but he didn't say a word as he unclipped the handcuffs from his belt.

"No?" she asked. "So you're just a kinky bastard then?" she spat.

He raised an eyebrow at that, but she didn't care. She was angry, and more than a little frustrated.

"If that were the case," he said, pausing as he closed the space between them, "I certainly wouldn't be wasting them on a little snoop like you," he whispered in her ear.

Hope shivered as she felt a surge of heat flood her cheeks.

_ He really was a cocky son of a bitch. _

He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her around. She could feel the familiar warmth of their connection, but something was a bit off, _ fuzzy almost. _

"Do you feel that?" she asked as he pulled her arms behind her back.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, somewhat unconvincingly. "I—," he was cut off as the doorbell rang. She glanced over her shoulder at him, noting conflict in his eyes.

_ "Hide," _ he said quietly.

"Aren't you going to handcuff me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanor.

"I said, _ hide," _he snapped. He nervously looked over his shoulder, smoothing back his hair with a trembling hand.

"_Fine_. Where?" she asked, glancing around the living room.

"My bedroom. That way," he said, pointing down an adjacent hallway.

Whoever was at the door must have been impatient, because the bell rang twice more, making them both jump.

"Who is that?" she whispered, hesitating to let him out of her sight.

"_Just_ _go!_" he whispered hoarsely, sending another nervous glance over his shoulder.

He was definitely afraid of something. The thought made Hope uncomfortable, but she obeyed his order and headed towards the door that presumably led to his bedroom.

She turned to Clarke for confirmation, but he had already went to answer the door. She shifted anxiously from foot to foot before finally opening the door, then pulling it quietly shut behind her.

The first thing she noticed was the pleasant woodsy scent that seemed to fill the room. It was somehow familiar, but she couldn't place it.

Everything seemed extremely well organized, minus a sizeable stack of books piled precariously next to the bed. However, the bed itself was neatly made, complete with a silky, black duvet.

_ What a drama king. _

At the foot of the bed, was a large cedar chest, fastened with sturdy looking brass latches.

Before she could get closer to investigate, she began hearing muffled voices coming from the living room. She knelt down by the door, pressing her ear to the crack under the door.

"Where have you been, Agent Clarke?" a woman's voice asked.

"Busy," she heard him answer.

"Too busy to check in with Triad?" she asked. "You know, the institution you work for," she added sarcastically.

"Tell me more, Agent Owens," he responded dryly.

"I've looked into you file, Clarke," she began. "You're a ghost. Of course there's a paper trail, but it's fake. Only an idiot would believe those documents were real."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Clarke answered. Hope could sense his unease, even though she wasn't near him.

"And then someone left some loose ends," the woman added. "Someone named Agent Phillips disappeared."

"What does that have to do with me?" he asked sharply.

"That's what I'm trying to find out. She obviously found her way into the pit, but _ someone _ erased the security camera footage. Too bad they forgot to check the records room, which I cross check, _ regularly." _

Hope could feel another spike of panic in Clarke's energy signature. Whoever this Agent Owens was, she clearly had it out for Clarke.

"Wait!" she heard Clarke say.

Then, she heard a click, not unlike what she had heard earlier.

_ She was going to kill him. _

"I don't care who you are Agent, Clarke," she said bitterly. "You've clearly been in the pit before, because no one seems to know where you came from. And now you've weaseled your way into Triad."

"Put the gun down, Agent Owens," he said tightly.

"How did it feel, pushing someone into the pit knowing its horrors?" she asked. "Did it feel good pushing Agent Phillips in, Clarke?"

"You can't prove it was me," he answered.

"Ah. That's all the confirmation I need," she said, clearly satisfied.

"Don't do this, Owens,"

"From what I read, she worked with you. She _ partnered _ with you. Is that how you treat all your partners?" she asked.

_ How he treats all his partners? _

Hope suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. Why would he have done that to his partner?

_ Someone who trusted him… _

"You're going to die a coward," she said smugly.

Hope couldn't take it— she burst from Clarke's bedroom and ran into the living room. She saw Agent Clarke backed against the same desk she had been earlier, held at gunpoint by a tall, blonde woman in a dark pantsuit.

"Get away from him!" she commanded.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked, turning the gun in Hope's direction.

_"Dissulta!" _Hope yelled, sending a shockwave of energy towards Agent Owens, causing her to fly backwards into the bookshelves.

A cascade of tomes came tumbling down on her, rendering her momentarily unconscious.

"You're a witch too?" Clarke asked her, face pale with shock.

"Clearly," she said, turning to face him.

"You know, most of those books were really expensive…" he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" she asked. "I just saved your ass, _ let's go!" _

She began heading towards the door, but he caught her wrist.

"I need to get something first," he said, turning back towards his bedroom hallway.

She followed him reluctantly, taking another quick glance at Agent Owens, still passed out on the floor.

When she entered his room, he was digging through the cedar chest at the foot of his bed that she had noticed earlier.

"What are you looking for?" she asked nervously. If they waited too long, Agent Owens was going to have them cornered again.

"This," he said, holding out a small, clay talisman shaped like a person.

"What's that?" she asked, drawing closer.

"A memento, of sorts," he answered cryptically.

She reached out to touch it, brushing his fingers as she did so.

Suddenly, the world spun out of control again and she felt reality being ripped away from her.

"Clarke!" she shouted, but it was too late.

* * *

By the time she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else—somewhere outside.

She looked around, it was a mountainous area with little vegetation.

"Where am I?" she asked aloud, struggling to make out landmarks or signs.

_ Nothing. _

"Clarke?" she called.

Suddenly, she heard voices coming from around a large pile of rocks.

She gasped—Clarke was there, but he wasn't alone. He was with a large creature, not unlike the little clay figure Clarke had been holding in his bedroom.

"You've always been a disappointment," the creature boomed. "A waste of time and energy…"

"Please, father, I can do better!" Clarke said, voice trembling.

_ That _ was Clarke's father? That was _ Malivore? _ She suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

"Worthless!" Malivore shouted, using the back of his hand to slap Clarke straight across the face. The force of the blow sent him flying into rocks behind him.

_His neck had snapped. _

Hope covered her mouth with her hand in an effort to keep from screaming. This was so _cruel_…

A heartbeat later, Clarke rose from the spot where he had landed, snapping his neck back into place.

"That's the only good thing about you," Malivore said. "But until I sire the perfect creation, you all remain worthless."

Clarke just stared back at him, an emptiness behind his eyes. She felt his sadness as a dull ache. It was deep and familiar—a pain that had existed for a long, long time.

She had reached her limit, she moved out from her hiding spot. She had to do _ something. _

But as soon as she stood, the world began to twist again, falling away beneath her.

"No!" she screamed. She just caught a glimpse of Clarke looking in her direction before the entire world went black.

* * *

She opened her eyes and found herself floating in a dark void. The nothingness stretched around her into infinity, dark, silent and cold.

"Hello?" She called into the darkness. "Is anyone there?" But there was no answer. Her own words seemed to echo endlessly, reverberating off of invisible walls.

"Clarke?" She asked, more softly. She strained to feel his presence. Any hint that he may be here with her. This was his nightmare after all, _ wasn't it? _

But there was no answer. No sign that he was anywhere close, or even with her at all. Hope felt an overwhelming sense of panic setting in.

_ Was this the void that Clarke had been trapped in when he first came to Malivore? _

She tried to steady her breathing, like she did before her transformations—But it wasn't working. The darkness seemed to have a presence all of its own.

Although the isolation and silence were absolute, there was a chilling feeling that something was watching her.

_ Watching and enjoying her suffer. _

She felt her heartbeat quicken, she was so _ anxious. _It reminded her of the times she had succumbed to panic in the months following her parents' deaths. It was the kind of dread that wormed its way into your mind, consuming every peaceful thought until there was nothing left.

She let out a scream of frustration, only to hear it echo back.

The last times, Clarke had been there. It was a matter of working their way out of his mind, she was sure of it.

_ But how could she do that if she couldn't even find him? _

Suddenly, she felt something, a noticeable tugging sensation at her wrist. She looked down to find a red silk ribbon, the same one she had tied around her wrist in Clarke's apartment.

It was still tied snuggly, but had somehow become impossibly long— one end seemed to stretch out into the darkness so far she couldn't see its end.

_ How had she not noticed that earlier? _

She tugged on the ribbon, finding herself compelled to follow wherever it led.

Faster and faster she pulled at the ribbon, finding herself floating along, urged on by a strange, magnetic force.

The ribbon seemed to stretch forever! She feared she may never reach the end… Perhaps this was some cosmic joke and somewhere someone was watching her struggling in vain, chasing false hope.

But then, up ahead, she could make out a figure floating in the darkness.

_ It was Clarke _, she was sure of it. Their connection confirmed what her eyes could not yet see.

"Clarke!" She called, not bothering to hide the excitement in her voice.

"I'm here!" She yelled out, pulling on the ribbon with renewed fervor.

But he didn't turn—he just floated there, _ motionless. _

Finally, she reached him, finding his eyes closed as if he were sleeping. A quick glance told her that he wasn't injured— at least not visibly.

And sure enough, the other end of the red ribbon was tied securely around his wrist.

"Clarke?" She asked tentatively. "Can you hear me?"

He remained unresponsive, although there was a distinct look of pain on his face. It was the most forlorn she had ever seen him.

She reached out a trembling hand to touch his cheek—causing his eyes to snap open.

"Hope?" He asked quietly—it was barely more than a whisper.

"It's me," she confirmed, as she felt him lean into her touch.

"Are you real?" He asked, just as softly as the first time he had spoken. His eyes were glistening with some emotion she couldn't read.

"I am," she confirmed with a small smile.

He laughed at that—although the sound was joyful, it was also erratic. Almost as if he had forgotten how to laugh a long time ago.

"I don't believe you, but at least I will have my hallucinations to keep me company," he said with a grin.

"Clarke, I _ am _real," she said earnestly. "I'm here to save you from your nightmares!"

"Yes, I do believe _ that _," he said softly. He reached out to take her hand gently in his own.

She could only watch as he pressed his lips lightly to the sensitive skin of her wrist, just above where the ribbon was tied. She felt her breath hitch—the kiss was so light and delicate, yet it set her whole body on fire.

"Clarke?" She asked in a shaking voice.

"Yes, beautiful illusion?" he replied.

He really didn't believe that she was real. But he was being open with her, so honest it made her heart ache.

"I think you have to believe me—in order for us to get out of here," she said quietly.

"Is that so?" He asked, clearly still not in his right mind.

_ What could she do to wake him up? _

"Agent Clarke," she began firmly, "If you don't believe me I'll cast another mimic spell and drag your ass out of here myself!"

At that, his eyes grew wide.

_ "Hope?" _ He asked again, clearly bewildered. "It really _ is _ you," he said in amazement.

"I _ told _ you," she said, trying to sound annoyed, but she was pretty sure she sounded as relieved as he did.

As if a spell had been broken, she felt the world fall away once more. She reached out and grasped his arm, ensuring wherever she went, he did too.

She could only hope that when she opened her eyes, she would be back in the rainy cliffs of Malivore once more.

* * *

**_"The Red Thread of Fate, also referred to as the Red Thread of Marriage, and other variants, is an East Asian belief originating from Chinese legend. According to this myth, the gods tie an invisible red cord around the Finger of those that are destined to meet one another in a certain situation as they are 'their true love.'"_**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

**(Ryan)**

Strange visions flashed behind his eyes—his apartment, his father..._ Hope. _ Feelings and images came and went, tormenting him before being torn away like film left on the cutting room floor.

Ryan grimaced, not daring to open his eyes for fear of the world being ripped away again. His head was spinning and pounding—it was worse than the very worst of his hangovers.

_ And he'd had plenty of those. _

"Clarke!" a voice shouted from nearby.

_ Too loud… _

He cracked open an eye to see Hope leaning over him, eyes shining and cheeks flushed with color.

"Hope?" he croaked out, pulling himself up into a sitting position. His whole body ached, but his chest hurt the worst. It felt like someone had just beaten him within every inch of his life.

_ A feeling he knew all too well… _

"You remember!" she shouted, smiling widely.

"What do you—?"

Without warning, she threw her arms around him, practically tackling him to the ground. It was different than the last time he had held her. She had been tentative and reserved then, but now… She was…_ happy? _

He could tell that she was pouring all of her strength into the hug, burying her face into his chest. It was the strangest sensation. He found himself terrified to move.

"When we were in that void…I was so scared," she whispered, face still pressed into his chest. "And Mailovre, he was so cruel to you. I didn't know when I brought you with me. I'm… I'm sorry, Clarke."

He froze, realizing that what he had been experiencing was much more than a bad dream. His first instinct was to pull back, but he could feel her emotions—relief and empathy swirling around her in equal measure.

He slowly put his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Thank you, Hope," he said quietly.

She released her hold and sat back on her heels.

"For what?" she asked, brows drawing together in confusion.

"It's fuzzy on exactly how, but I think you saved me," he said.

She laughed somewhat nervously. "I guess that's just what we do now," she said.

"It's more than that," he said, not knowing how to articulate exactly what he was feeling, but it felt _deeper. _

He wasn't surprised when she nodded in understanding, feelings were quickly becoming something that they didn't need to speak to understand.

She moved to sit next to him. They stayed like that for a few minutes, not saying anything.

"My dad had an abusive father," she said softly. "His name was Mikael. My dad was the product of an affair and Mikael hated him for it," she explained thoughtfully, playing with the pendant around her neck.

"But it was more than that—he hated my father for what he was, a hybrid. So he tormented him, _ mercilessly. _No matter what my dad did, he could never live up to his father's expectations and it twisted him."

Ryan sat quietly as he listened. He knew the Mikaelsons were one of the most powerful supernatural families on the planet, but he had never heard their story so intimately before.

"I loved my dad," Hope said quickly, "But he did terrible things in the name of family, and I think a lot of that came from the way his father treated him."

Her eyes were glistening again, but she continued her story.

He admired her strength.

"I'm sorry to say that you probably know exactly how he felt," she said softly. "But he didn't let it destroy him, not completely. He forged his own way—maybe not always in the way that he _should_ have…" she laughed.

"I'm sure you've heard the stories," she said with a crooked smile. "But, I guess what I'm trying to say is that there is always hope."

"Yes," he said. "I do believe in Hope…" he finished with a smirk.

She threw her head back and laughed at that, the joyous sound echoed around the outcropping, causing his heart beat strangely. He couldn't remember the last time he let someone get this close.

_ God, he was in trouble. _

"Hey," she said, "It stopped raining."

Indeed, it had stopped raining sometime during their conversation. The darkness outside seemed to have lightened as well, indicating that it was what passed for morning in this hellscape.

"Do you think we should keep moving?" he asked.

"Maybe we should rest for a little while," she said. "It's been a long night…"

"You can say that again," he agreed, leaning back against the wall behind him. He looked up at the dark, rocky ceiling above him and shivered.

"What's wrong?" she asked, immediately aware of his discomfort.

"Enclosed spaces...unsettle me," he admitted.

"Oh my God," she said with a laugh. "You're just like Landon."

He bristled at her words—_he couldn't help it. _

_ Why does it always have to come back to his little brother? _

He could tell that Hope felt his frustration; she moved back slightly, pursing her lips together.

"He _ is _ your brother…" she said hesitantly. "I know there's bad blood there, but I think if you got to know him, you may get along."

"I doubt it," he said resolutely.

"Don't be so sure," she said. "I never thought I'd like you, but here we are… "

"You _ like _ me?" he asked quietly. "Or am I just a substitute for Landon now that he'll never remember who you are?"

Hope winced at his words, pulling her arms around her chest.

"Why would you say that?" she asked, clearly hurt.

"It's the truth," he said. "No one is going to remember you."

She just stared at him with those big doe eyes.

"This isn't about that," she said. "It's about Landon. You hate him even though you don't know him. You should give him a chance, he's _ kind _ and _ brave _ and—"

"And everything I'm not," he said bitterly.

_ "What is wrong with you?" _ she hissed.

"Care to take a guess?" he asked, leaning in closer.

She scooted back, only stopping when she was backed against the rocky wall behind her. He moved with her, leaning down over her.

"I will _never_ be Landon," he said looking into her eyes, only a few inches from his own. She shivered as he looked down to her lips.

"Do you want to know what's _ wrong _ with me?" he whispered in her ear. _ "Everything." _

He turned his head, just barely brushing his lips against hers before he felt her hands on his chest, shoving him with unbridled force.

"STOP!" she shouted. "How _ dare _ you?" she asked, fire burning in her eyes.

"Every time I start to believe in you, you show your true colors. You're _ cruel. _ Cruel just like your father!" she shouted.

Her emotions were like liquid fire, burning so hot that they seemed to scald him from the inside.

"Hope!" he called as he watched her scramble to the entrance of the outcropping and disappear from view.

_ Shit. _

He jumped to his feet, bumping his head on the low, rock ceiling.

"Son of a bitch!" he swore, rubbing the rapidly growing bump on his head.

"Hope!" he shouted again, following her outside.

He looked around, but there was no sign of her—it was impossible. There was nowhere to go, just rocks and empty space. It was almost like she had vanished into thin air.

"You can't leave me!" he shouted, hearing his voice crack on the words. "You can't!" he yelled again.

But there was no answer, no trace of her.

* * *

**(Hope)**

She looked down at Clarke standing at the entrance of their makeshift hideout.

"You can't leave me!" he shouted. She held her breath, concentrating on the spell that made her invisible.

"You can't!" he shouted again.

_ Why? _ _Why did he have to be this way?_

His words still stung. It wasn't like he hadn't said something similar before, but it hurt so much more this time.

And the way he got so close to her…She moved her fingers to her lips, which he had just barely brushed with his own.

_ Was he really trying to kiss her? _

She immediately tucked the thought away, burying it deep down. Whatever game he was playing, it was just that—_ a game. _ He was a manipulator and a liar, he had said so himself. She had no reason to believe anything he said or did.

_But what about their connection?_

Could he really manipulate her when she could feel him the way that she did?

His feelings always felt real, but she supposed it didn't mean anything. Whatever this bond was, it was magical in origin, and magic could be deceiving. Until she knew exactly how their connection worked, she had no reason to trust it.

She watched him begin to walk away from the outcropping, heading down the path that led in the direction of the largest rock formation—the place where Malivore was surely waiting.

She reluctantly began to follow him, taking care to keep her steps quiet as she walked along a slightly elevated but parallel path.

He walked in silence, occasionally glancing over his shoulder, presumably looking for her.

She honestly hadn't decided what to do—she knew he had no intention of assisting her defeat Malivore; however, the thought of facing more of Malivore's monsters on her own was concerning.

She had already expended so much energy just trying to survive that even the effort needed to keep herself cloaked was taxing.

Suddenly, something caught her attention. There was something lying on the path ahead of her—it seemed like some sort of paper, but she couldn't be sure.

She approached the object with caution, keeping an eye on Clarke walking ahead, oblivious to her presence.

When she got closer she saw that it was a tarot card—it looked like it belonged in the deck Gwyllion had used when she was masquerading as her Aunt.

It was the moon card.

She picked it up carefully, studying the familiar image of two dogs howling at the moon above.

The meaning came easily to her—_ Uncertainty. Intuition. Illusion. _

She flipped the card over, finding a message scrawled on the back:

_ "Take heed," _ the words read in silvery ink.

The warning made her shiver in apprehension. Something big was coming… _ but what? _

She glanced over, looking for Clarke, only to find that she had lost track of him.

_ How long was she staring at that damn card for? _

Hope jogged ahead, looking for any sign of him on the path below, but he was just _gone. _

She considered reaching out for him through their connection, but she honestly wasn't sure if she should…if she reached out for him, would he feel it?

She had hoped that the cloaking spell would help hide their connection, but she hadn't considered the fact that she may actually need to use it.

She looked down to read the card's message again, but as soon as she did, it vanished in a puff of smoke.

"What the hell?" she asked, looking around for whoever may have been responsible. But there was no one in sight.

The realization caused her heart to sink like a stone.

_ Alone. _

Suddenly, she heard a scream from somewhere up ahead. She broke into a run, letting the cloaking spell fall away. As soon as it did, she felt a burning sensation snake its way down her back.

The feeling pushed her to move faster, stumbling along the path in her haste.

"Clarke?" she called.

_ Had that scream been his? _

She barely had time to stop before she reached the end of a large cliff. She tried to catch her breath as she looked over the intimidating precipice.

Suddenly, she heard the scream again, she looked around widely for its source, practically shaking in anticipation. Then, she heard a mighty roar coming from somewhere below.

She looked down, spotting an emerald green dragon in the canyon below, shooting upwards at a terrible speed.

She knew that dragon—it was _ Huan_, she realized in horror.

But that wasn't all, the source of the scream was in fact Clarke.

He was dangling dangerously, being held in Huan's fearsome claws.

"CLARKE!" she screamed, but it made no difference—Huan was already just a speck of green against an impossibly dark sky.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

**(Ryan)**

Ryan watched helplessly as what appeared to be a colossal green dragon soared skyward, clutching him tightly in its deadly talons.

It was an illusion of course, he was still on solid ground—bound and gagged by Huan the wonder prick.

"Well, that should keep her busy for a while," Huan said with a grin.

"She really is quite the little hero, isn't she?" he asked, turning to him. "Oh, sorry, forgot about that," he said, pointing to the gag around Ryan's mouth. "Can't have you spoiling things…"

Ryan just glared at him, straining against the ropes that bound his arms painfully behind his back.

"What's the matter, suit? Not eager to spend some quality time together?" Huan asked.

"We're on the same team, after all. Well, we're _supposed _to be…"

Huan paused, looking down at him with disdain. "You haven't let her get into your head, have you?" he asked.

Ryan strained against his restraints once more, struggling to get off his knees.

"You two really have become quite close…" Huan mused, ignoring his efforts to break free.

"But maybe not so much anymore. A little birdie told me you two had a fight," Huan said, pouting as he traced the path of an imaginary tear down his cheek.

Ryan simply clenched his jaw in response.

"But I do see why you got so distracted…" Huan mused. "She really is quite pretty… and _damn,_ that body!" He let out a low whistle.

"If she hadn't just murdered my brother, I'd be trying to screw her too…"

Something inside him snapped— Ryan lunged forward on his knees, imagining nothing more satisfying than strangling the bastard with his bare hands.

Unfortunately, all he succeeded in doing was landing flat on his face. He could feel a trickle of blood running down his forehead.

Huan cackled in delight.

"Oh, please," he said between laughs. "You're no noble protector! You know Malivore is going to drain her like a battery and yet here you are, leading her like a lamb to the slaughter!"

Ryan looked up at Huan in confusion.

"Oh?" Huan asked. "Daddy hasn't shared the details of his plan with you yet? That's rich!"

_Drain her like a battery? _He knew Malivore would try to neutralize Hope, but that made it sound a lot like…

"Need me to fill you in?" Huan asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Huan," a female voice called from nearby.

Ryan could see a pair of sandaled feet approaching. He strained his neck, trying to get a better view, but his position on the ground made it next to impossible.

"Akane!" Huan greeted her. "I didn't expect you back so soon—did you get her in position?" he asked.

"Yes," the woman answered. "She's headed back towards the forest, searching for that one," she said, tapping Ryan with her foot.

"I'll intercept her soon so we can make the delivery together," she said.

"Perfect," said Huan. "I'll move Clarke back to base and get him up to speed."

Huan reached down and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, hauling him up to his feet.

Ryan turned to look at the woman Huan called Akane—she was a young Asian woman with long, dark hair and delicate features. She appeared no older than her mid-twenties, but something about the way she carried herself indicated that she was likely much, much older.

"Clarke, meet Akane," Huan said, slapping him on the back.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, looking between the two in frustration.

"Oh yeah, silly me…" Huan said, yanking the gag off.

Ryan gasped, turning to face Huan.

"Listen here, you little _weasel, _I want no part of whatever plan you've put together. I'm not in the business of helping anyone but _myself," _he spat.

"As for you," he turned to Akane, who was watching him with a bemused expression. "I don't know who the hell you are, but no one is going to lay a finger on Hope. I have orders to bring to her to Malivore alive, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Does Hope know that you're going to betray her?" Akane asked, her voice was practically a purr.

"I'm not _betraying _anyone—Hope wants to reach Malivore, Malivore wants Hope brought to him. Whatever happens from there is out of my control," he snapped.

"I do love well-reasoned justification," she said with a wicked smile, revealing distinctly inhuman canines.

"It's not a justification," Ryan said irritably. "Hope and I have an arrangement…she's just not aware of all of the players."

"You mean she's really _that _foolish?" Akane asked.

Huan laughed at that. "Careful, Akane, he's got a bit of a thing for Hope…"

"Oh really? Well, that could be useful," she said with a smirk.

"And does Hope return these feelings?" she asked.

"No way," Huan answered quickly. "When she first met me, she couldn't take her eyes off me," he boasted.

"You son of a—" Ryan snapped, lunging at Huan despite his limited range of motion.

Akane laughed like it was the funniest thing she had ever seen.

"Well, regardless, it's a useful piece of information to have…" she said with a smile.

"What are you talking about?" Ryan asked, glaring down at the petite woman.

Suddenly, they were eye to eye as Akane grew in stature. He watched in horror as a mere moment later he was looking at an exact replica of himself.

"I'm off to collect the tribred princess," Akane said in a perfect imitation of his own voice.

"Let's find out if she's happy to see me…" she taunted before disappearing down the cliffside.

Ryan stood there dumbfounded—this was _much _worse than he had anticipated.

"Akane really is something isn't she? I met her after Hope killed my brother," Huan said from behind him.

"She's a kitsune—are you familiar with them?" he asked.

"Of course I'm familiar with them," Ryan snapped. "My literal job was researching monsters."

"So you'll know how cunning and mischievous they can be. She'll probably want to play around with Hope before bringing her back, but that's fine. We need a little time to get everything together," Huan said with a grin.

_"We?" _asked Ryan. "I certainly hope you don't think that includes me."

"Oh, but it does," said Huan.

"There's nothing you can do to make me help you, and as soon as I get free I'm going to _murder_ _you,"_ he snarled.

Huan laughed again—_the sound was working his last nerve._

"I think _this _may change your mind," Huan said, reaching under his shirt to pull out a small, velvet pouch hanging around his neck.

"A bad taste in fashion?" Ryan asked dryly.

Huan reached inside, pulling out a small, clay figure of man.

Ryan's blood instantly turned to ice.

"_No—" _Ryan said in horror.

"Where did you get that? _How?" _he asked, barely able to speak the words.

"Malivore facilitated a little trip to the other side," Huan said with a wicked grin. "Told me what to look for…"

"You can't do this," Ryan whispered.

Terror couldn't begin to describe the way he was feeling.

"Oh, but I already did," said Huan, beaming from ear to ear. "And now it's time for you to play your part…"

* * *

**(Hope) **

Hope felt like she was going to throw up. The image of Huan carrying Clarke over the canyon was burned in her memory, replaying itself over and over and _over_ _again._

She remembered the way Huan and Wei's claws had felt on her back and she could only imagine the pain of being carried by one of those monsters.

She warred with herself. She was still _beyond_ pissed at him, but she couldn't help the undeniable pull to have him back by her side, safe and unharmed.

Huan was barely a speck in the sky as she followed his trail down the rocky cliffs. By the time she reached ground level, she was almost back where they had started, at the edge of the forest once more.

Hope looked up at the dark sky, searching for any sign of Clarke and the dragon, but they had disappeared somewhere over the trees.

_Perfect. _

The last thing she wanted was to go back into the woods—it would take her hours, if not days, out of her way.

But what else could she do? She couldn't just leave Clarke behind, not after everything they had been through together…

"Clarke?" she called hesitantly into the treeline, fearing unwanted attention from the creatures she knew dwelled inside.

There was nothing but eerie silence in reply. She pulled tightly on her pendant, causing the chain to bite into her neck.

If she had to go back into that godforsaken forest, she wasn't going to just wander in blindly.

_Time for a locator spell… _

_"Ahsorum, dolusantum, infidictus," _Hope whispered, closing her eyes in concentration. This would work much better with a map of some sort, but it was worth a try.

A moment passed, then another— _Nothing. _

She tried focusing on Clarke—tall, dark eyes, curly hair, _snarky mouth… _she found herself touching her lips. 

As soon as she did, an image emerged, rippling like water— Clarke was bound and gagged, Huan hovered over him with a nasty grin on his face. As quickly as the image came, it was replaced by another; Clarke was wandering through a dark patch of woods, calling her name—_ he was close. _

That was odd…locator spells typically indicated where a target was _currently, _but Clarke couldn't be in two places at once…

For some reason, the vision must have been depicting a sequence of events—Clarke must have escaped Huan and was now looking for her in the forest.

She briefly thought about the tarot card she had found earlier—it warned of illusions. What if this was some kind of trap?

She reached out for Clarke's energy, hoping for some kind of clue. She took a deep breath, centering herself. She reached out her heart, her mind, _her soul. _It made her feel vulnerable as hell, but she pressed on, reaching out for him.

Then, she felt a spike of pure panic. It was Clarke—his anxiety was palpable. Her eyes snapped open as she broke out into a cold sweat. It was as if she had taken on the entirety of the feeling, his raw fear consumed her.

_"Oh my God," _she choked, clutching her chest. _"What's happening to you?" _

There was no choice, she'd have to search for him, trap or not. Whatever situation he was in, it was dire.

She made her way into the woods, trying to maintain the link to his energy signature. She kept a leery eye on her surroundings. There was no telling what could be hiding in the woods— _including Huan. _

She didn't know how Clarke had escaped him, but chances were that he'd be out for blood after what she did to his brother.

She had only been walking for about fifteen minutes before she heard a twig snap behind her. She spun around, feeling white hot adrenaline course through her veins.

"You found me," said a familiar voice. A moment later, Clarke stepped out from behind a tree.

"Clarke!" she shouted in relief.

_That was a lot easier than she had anticipated. _

"Are you okay? I saw Huan carry you off and—"

"And you came to rescue me," Clarke finished with a wide smile.

_"Of course," _she said. "I mean, I couldn't let Huan rip you limb from limb for something _I _did…"

"Yes, he is quite…_ displeased _about that," Clarke answered.

_"Displeased?" _Hope asked in disbelief. "I'm sure he's a little more than _displeased _…"

"Well, that doesn't matter now," he said, waving a hand dismissively.

"What's important is that I got away and we're finally back together," Clarke said, still smiling.

"You're awfully cheerful for someone who just took the world's worst aerial tour,"she said suspiciously.

Something felt…_ off. _

"I'm just relieved that you found me," he said softly, drawing in closer.

"Uh huh…" she mumbled, taking half a step back.

_Why was he so close? _

He reached out a hand, gently tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

Hope felt an all too familiar rush of heat flood her body. She was instantly reminded of the way he had cornered her earlier, _brushing his lips against hers— _

"W-What are you doing?" she stammered, taking another unsteady step backwards.

For some reason, her reaction seemed to amuse him—Clarke smiled down at her, letting out a low chuckle.

"Interesting…" he said, seemingly to himself.

"What's interesting?" she snapped, finding herself growing annoyed.

"Oh, nothing," he said. "Should we get going?"

"Yeah, I think we should," she agreed.

"Time to get back to the cliffs," she said, turning to exit the woods from the way she came.

"Actually, I know a shortcut," he said, reaching out to stop her.

"Huan let something slip while I was with him."

"About that...how did you manage to escape?" she asked. "I saw you bound and gagged."

He considered her for a moment, something like calculation in his eyes.

"Huan agreed to let me go if I led him to you, but I tricked him—made a break for it," he explained.

"So he's looking for us now?" she asked, glancing around.

"Presumably," he said with a shrug. "But he'll be expecting us to head straight back to the cliffs. It's best if we lay low in the woods for a while," he said.

"I can't wait any longer," she said. "I have to get to Malivore before something terrible happens. It's been too long already…"

"Oh, Malivore won't be going anywhere," Clarke said confidently. "Huan made it clear that he won't make a move until you're…dealt with."

"Why would he tell you that?" she asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Cliché villain monologue. He probably thought he was persuading me to his side," he explained, shrugging his shoulders again.

"It turns out you're quite the commodity. Everybody seems to…_ want you," _he said, taking a step forward.

His eyes traveled up her body, lingering on her hips, her chest—_ her lips_.

She felt like her heart was going to pound out of her chest.

"Um, Clarke?" she asked anxiously. "What are you doing?"

"You seem a little flushed… is everything alright?" he asked gently.

She reached out to read his intentions, his emotions, _anything— _but came up empty handed.

It was so_ strange. _

_It was like he wasn't there at all… _

As if sensing her suspicion, he backed away, demeanor changing completely.

"Let's make camp for the night," he suggested casually. "Huan won't expect us to linger in the woods, and you look like you need some rest."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked.

"Sure it is," he said. "Why don't you just lay down and I'll keep watch…"

Something about the way he said it made her want to believe him. There was something so persuasive about his words…

"Alright," she agreed, laying down at the base of a nearby tree. "I suppose a little rest wouldn't be a bad idea…"

"Sweet dreams, Hope," Clarke said, sitting down beside her.

She swore she detected a sweet smelling smoke filling her senses as her eyelids fluttered shut.

Something inside her shouted out a warning— but a moment later, she found herself lulled into a strange, strange dream…

* * *

_**"**_**_Kitsune in the literal sense is the Japanese word for fox. A kitsune may take on human form, an ability learned when it reaches a certain age – usually 100 years, although some tales say 50._******

**_Common forms assumed by kitsune include beautiful women, young girls, elderly men, and less often young boys. These shapes are not limited by the fox's own age or gender,_** **_and a kitsune can duplicate the appearance of a specific person…_**

**_Other supernatural abilities commonly attributed to kitsune include possession, generating fire or lightning, willful manifestation in the dreams of others, flight, invisibility, and the creation of illusions so elaborate as to be almost indistinguishable from reality."_**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**(Hope)**

Hope awoke with a shiver—she was _freezing. _Half-asleep, she cracked open an eye to find that the room was still dark, accompanied by the distinct chill of early morning.

She groaned—_ It was clearly much too early to be conscious. _

She pulled on the covers, which had become hopelessly tangled around her legs. For some reason, it seemed like something was holding them in place— Irritated, she tugged on them harder until there was enough blanket to wrap around herself.

_"Hey…" _a sleepy voice protested from beside her.

_A male voice. _

Hope froze—_ someone was in the bed with her. _

"Stop hogging the covers," the voice mumbled grumpily.

She bolted upright, turning to see the shape of a man lying next to her— he was on his side, back turned to her, but she would recognize those messy curls anywhere.

_"Clarke?!" _she asked in disbelief, quickly scooting to the edge of the bed.

_"What?" _he grumbled, clearly still half-asleep.

_"What are you doing here?" _she asked, completely taken aback by his presence.

_This wasn't right. This was— _

"Hope...?" he asked, turning to look at her. He looked as confused as she felt. "Must be a dream…" he said with a yawn.

"Yours or mine?" she asked, barely stifling a giggle.

_She suddenly felt rather unsteady… _

"That should be obvious," he answered, finally sitting up. He was in a pair of black sleep shorts and, _once again, _missing his shirt.

_Wait, when had she seen him without a shirt before? _They had been looking for something together… _right? _

"If this is a dream, then why does it feel so real?" she asked, deliberately looking away from him to hide her rising blush.

Instead, she studied the room around her. The low light made it hard to make out the details, but she knew that everything from the dark wallpaper to the large four poster bed seemed both unfamiliar and very, very real.

"How did we get here?" she asked, reaching for the pendant around her neck.

"I'm not sure…" he said, clearly as puzzled as she was.

Hope turned back to him, finding herself unable to keep from staring at his chest—he was muscular, but not overly so. She let her eyes travel up to his face, noting the light scruff on his neck and cheeks… Finally, she met his gaze, surprised to find his face flushed.

"You're really fit," she said, feeling another wave of unsteadiness overtake her. "Is it weird that I said that?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious, but she wasn't sure why…

"I don't think it's weird," he said softly. "If this is a dream, what harm could it do?" he asked, flashing her a crooked smile.

She giggled again— _What the hell was wrong with her? _

She was acting like she was twelve years old!

_Lizzie would have teased her mercilessly… _

It was the same off-balance feeling you get playing _"truth or dare?" _at a friend's sleepover— There was the distinct feeling that she was somehow out of control in this moment…

_"Hope," _he said her name like a prayer, pulling her from her thoughts. "Why did you have to be so beautiful?" he asked, moving closer to her until they were shoulder to shoulder, backs resting against the headboard.

_Clearly, Clarke was experiencing the same loss of control… _

"You must be drunk," she said, knocking her shoulder into his. "I don't think you've ever been this nice," she said.

_At least not that she could remember... _

"No alcohol here, I'm afraid," he answered.

"So, uh, where exactly is 'here'?" she asked, once again feeling a surge of confusion.

"We're—" he paused. "Actually, I don't know… _here _I guess?"

"Helpful, as ever," she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

He laughed at that, flashing her another smile. This one was more genuine than the first—it was lopsided and imperfect, but she found she quite liked it.

"You have a great smile," she said, voicing her observation without a second thought. It felt so good to be honest, she decided that she should do it more often.

"Thank you," he said softly, reaching out to trail his fingers down her arm. The sensation was immediate and electric.

_She wanted more… _

She looked down to find that she was dressed only in a nightgown— its low neckline and thin straps left her feeling exposed.

_"Jeez, _no wonder I was so cold!" she said irritably, hugging her arms around her chest.

He paused for a moment before letting out a sharp bark of laughter.

"W-What?" she asked, finding herself laughing as well, albeit somewhat nervously.

"Just _you," _he said. "You always make me laugh," he chuckled. "And that's actually harder to do than you'd think…"

The laughter died on her lips.

"Why don't you laugh more, Clarke?" she asked, finding that she genuinely wanted to know.

"I don't know…" he answered. "Is it weird that I can't remember?" he asked.

"A little," she admitted. "But I'm glad that we can be confused together."

"Me too," he said, regarding her carefully. He watched her with a hooded gaze, his dark eyes burning with intensity.

_Suddenly, she knew exactly why the term "bedroom eyes" had been invented… _

She reached for her necklace again, finding comfort in its weight between her fingers.

"You do that a lot, you know," he said, reaching out to still her hand.

"Yes," she answered. "My family… comforts me," she managed to say.

"I know," he said delicately. "That must be nice…"

Something about the look in his eyes simply broke her heart—there was loneliness, sadness, _pain… _

"You can choose your family too," she added, moving her hand closer to his. He just watched her as she slowly linked her pinky with his.

She wasn't sure why she did it, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

_But, for all she knew, she was comforting her own subconscious… _

_"Hope—" _he said, voice strained. He looked up to meet her eyes, the tenderest expression on his face.

_"Hmmm," _she murmured in reply.

He leaned in closer; she could feel the heat from his skin and the stirring of his breath in her hair.

_"Ryan," _she whispered, reaching out to lay her hand on his cheek, gently stroking his face with her thumb. She heard him sigh in response, leaning into her touch.

_Something about this reminded her of something—a ribbon, a memory… _

She finally let her eyes fall closed, feeling the softest touch of his lips against hers, a fleeting promise, before he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.

"Not in a dream," he murmured against her skin, regret dripping from his words. "Only when you're real," he said, pulling back, leaving her aching.

_"What—?" _she asked, confused. "But this is _my _dream," she said.

But between one blink and the next, Hope felt reality crashing down around her. The bedroom, the bed, Clarke—_ all vanished. _

She was alone and shivering on the floor of a dark prison cell with nothing but a strange scent of smoke clinging to her clothes.

* * *

**(Ryan)**

Ryan woke up in a sweat, sheets clinging to his skin. It had been so long since he had slept in a real bed, it took him a moment to remember where he was.

_Huan and Akane's house of illusions. _

Images flashed before his eyes as he laid there, trying to piece together the pieces. It had been the strangest dream…Hope had been there, in his bed…the very one he currently occupied.

_A silk nightgown, laughter, the softness of her skin… _

_"This is _my_ dream," _she had said, right before she vanished.

What did it mean? It was just a dream— _wasn't it? _

He sat up, running a trembling hand through his hair. He noticed a strange smell in the air, something like smoke…_ or incense. _

Suddenly, the door swung open and Akane strolled in. She had a wicked grin on her delicate face, showing off her sharp canines.

"Pleasant dreams?" she asked, giving him a knowing expression.

_"What did you do?" _he snapped, jumping out of the bed, backing her into the doorframe.

"Easy, tiger," she said, mirth in her eyes. "I did you a favor. Now you know…Hope may return those _naughty_ feelings after all…"

He was seething. Whatever Akane had done, it involved the real Hope.

"Where is she?" he asked, barely keeping his temper in check.

"Safe—_ for now," _she answered with a smile, twirling a strand of her long, dark hair around a graceful finger.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," said Huan, entering the room behind Akane.

Ryan clenched his fists at his side, imagining giving the son of a bitch a broken nose.

"Relax," Huan said, pulling the pouch out from under his shirt. "Remember who's pulling the strings here…"

Ryan stilled, watching Huan tuck the pouch back under his clothes.

"It's fascinating, really," Huan said. "The mythology of golems," he clarified.

"Have I told you about it?" Huan asked Akane.

"Why yes, you have," she said. "But will you fill me in on the highlights again?" she asked silkily.

Ryan knew what they were doing—_ reminding him of his place. _

"Well, you see," Huan began. "Golems are fascinating creatures. They're _soulless _creatures—created from earth to serve their creator. Not much can hurt a golem because they simply reform! No soul to destroy, empty shells, just living to _serve," _Huan emphasized the word.

"But how does one control a golem?" Huan asked, tapping a finger to his chin.

"Oh, tell me," Akana asked, circling Clarke slowly.

"To control a golem, you only need a piece of the original material it was created from, shaped into its likeness. Of course, there are some artistic liberties," he said, shrugging.

"But the principle stands—the original creator keeps a piece of the golem he created with him, a token of control. And whoever possesses it controls the golem. Unless that golem wishes to no longer exist. Because all it takes to _destroy_ a golem is to _destroy_ its token," Huan finished.

_"Stop,"_ Ryan said. "Just tell me, what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I need you to deliver something…well, actually, deliver _someone," _Huan answered with a smirk.

"Who?" Ryan asked warily.

"Just someone I picked up…" Huan answered. "Now why don't you get dressed? Akane got you a new suit…"

* * *

**(Hope)**

Hope paced around her cell for what felt like the hundredth time. No matter how many times she shouted, no one answered her calls. She had tried using a spell, but whatever the bars were made out of, it was impervious to her magic.

It seemed like she was in a basement of some sort—_ a basement furnished with prison cells. _

"Hello?!" she shouted again, growing increasingly frustrated at her predicament.

Finally, she heard the creaking sound of someone coming down the stairs. She moved back from the bars, tensing her muscles in preparation for a fight.

First, she saw the men's dress shoes, followed by a dark pair of slacks, suit jacket and—_ Clarke?! _

"Clarke!" she shouted, rushing to the bars. "What the hell is going on?" she asked breathlessly. "When you said that we were going to take a rest in the woods…did Huan find us?" she asked, not bothering to hide the panic in her voice.

She noticed a pained expression on his face as he looked past her to the wall of the cell. She reached out through their connection, but it felt like hitting a stone wall. It was like he had closed it off somehow...

"Hello?" she asked, growing annoyed. _"What's going on?"_ she repeated.

_He wouldn't look at her… _

"Here's the other prisoner," a female voice said from the stairs.

Hope watched helplessly as a man was led down the stairs by a strikingly pretty Asian woman. The man had his arms bound behind his back and a sack over his head, obscuring his identity from view.

"Clarke, what is this?" she asked, voice trembling.

"Hello, Hope," the woman greeted her. "Long time no see," she said with a smile.

"What?" Hope asked. "Am I supposed to know who the hell you are?" she asked, glaring at the newcomer.

The woman smiled, transforming in an instant into an exact replica of Clarke.

"I enjoyed our time in the woods," she said in Clarke's voice, letting her eyes travel up and down her body. Hope suddenly remembered how strange Clarke had been in the woods; how _wrong_ he had felt.

Hope backed up, looking to the real Clarke for answers, but he just stood there, silent and unreadable like a statue.

_"Clarke?"_ she asked, her voice breaking on the word. _"Please,_ what's going on?" she begged. She reached out with her feelings, imploring him to acknowledge her.

"Open the door, Clarke," the woman commanded, suddenly looking like herself again.

Clarke moved to the cell door, unlocking it with a key hanging from his belt.

"Don't move," he finally spoke.

_"You bastard,"_ she whispered. "You betrayed me…after everything. You actually betrayed me!"

His face remained impassive, a perfect mask of indifference, but she swore she saw him flinch at her words.

The woman shoved the new prisoner into the cell while Hope just stood there, burning in shame and anger.

_She had let him fool her. She had let her guard down._

_He was going to pay for this..._

Clarke slammed the cell door shut, locking it securely. She watched him follow the woman up the stairs, leaving her and her new cellmate in darkness.

She just stood there for a moment, shocked and hurt.

_Oh, God, it hurt. _

Finally, she turned to the man standing bound and hooded next to her.

"I'm going to take this off, okay?" she asked tentatively, approaching him.

The figure seemed to nod his head, so she proceeded to untie the rope holding the hood in place, letting it fall to the floor.

She lifted the hood carefully and gasped, nearly fainting at the sight—standing in front of her was an all too familiar face.

_"No," _she breathed, taking a shaky step backwards.

He was gagged, bruised, and bloody, but there was no denying it—

_It was Landon. _

* * *

**"****_In Jewish tradition, the golem is most widely known as an artificial creature created by magic, often to serve its creator. The word "golem" appears only once in the Bible (Psalms139:16). In Hebrew, "golem" stands for "shapeless mass." The Talmud uses the word as "unformed" or "imperfect" and according to Talmudic legend, Adam is called "golem," meaning "body without a soul" (Sanhedrin 38b) for the first 12 hours of his existence."_**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**(Ryan)**

Ryan rested his head against the door leading down to the basement.

_"Landon?" _he heard Hope ask faintly from downstairs. He could feel the heartbreak through their connection.

_Anger. Confusion. Sadness. _

Oh God, her sadness made it feel as if his heart had been shattered beyond repair.

He had steeled himself before visiting her—doing whatever he could to close her out. For both of their sakes, she needed to remain in the dark about this. If Huan and Akane realized how deeply their connection ran, they would surely inform his father, spelling doom for them both.

_He would have to do what he could to save Hope from the inside… _

As he stood there, he could hear the murmur of voices from down below. Surely, Landon was catching Hope up on all that had happened since she entered Malivore's portal.

He was probably telling her how empty his life had been without her, how much he wanted to hold her, how much he needed her in his life…

Once again, Landon was going to get everything that had always been denied to him. _The perfect son, the better brother… _

Not that it mattered anyway—he was certain as soon as Hope and Landon were delivered to his father, he'd be killed. _For real this time… _

He found for the first time in his life, he didn't really care. If he was going to die, so be it. But he wasn't going to let Hope be a pawn in Malivore's game, _not like him… _

He'd get her out. But in order to do that, he'd need to play his part…

* * *

**(Hope)**

"Landon?" she asked, not daring to believe it.

_How had he ended up here? _

_She had failed. _

The weight of the realization threatened to crush her. Once again, Hope Mikaelson would spell the downfall for the people she loved the most.

She reached out to remove the gag, pulling it down as gently as she could manage. Landon just watched her quietly, fear in his eyes.

"Hope?" he asked, voice shaking.

"It's me," she said softly, pulling him into a gentle embrace, doing her best to avoid hurting him. He was clearly injured.

"If it's really you, tell me how you like your milkshakes," he said quickly, backing himself against the bars of the cell.

She paused for a moment, taking in his frantic expression.

"Peanut Butter Blast, whipped cream on the bottom," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh, _thank God, _" he said; the relief on his face was immediate and clear.

_What had they done to him? _

"Landon, what happened?" she asked. "Why are you here? What happened at the school? Is everyone safe?" As if a dam had broken, the questions flowed out with the force of rushing water.

_Every question she hadn't dared to ask since arriving in Malivore. _

"Hope, it's been so crazy," he said, running a hand down his face. He frowned when noticed it came back smeared with his own blood.

"When you left…no one knew. _How could we?" _he asked, voice shaking again. "But then you came back…"

"What?" she asked, feeling the terror bubble up in her chest. "That's impossible…"

"It was," he said. "It wasn't you. It was a kitsune, and somehow she convinced everyone that she was you, even if we couldn't remember her," he explained.

Hope just listened, anger growing stronger by the moment.

"I followed her to the pit," he said, shaking his head. "I trusted her because she told me that we had been together and I was so _guilty _…"

"What could you have to be guilty about?" Hope asked gently. "It's not your fault that you couldn't remember me," she said reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder, an attempt at comfort, but he pulled away.

"Landon, what happened next?" she asked, trying to hide the fact that his reaction had stung.

"She told me that she knew how to defeat Malivore and that she needed me to go with her to help. So…I went with her," he said.

"Why didn't anyone stop you?" she asked, pushing down her anger.

"They tried," he said, eyes downcast. "But I didn't listen. I had dreams about you, Hope. I recognized her face when she came to me. I didn't have my memory, but I trusted her."

Hope blinked back tears.

"You had dreams about me?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he answered, smiling sadly. "But Hope, I didn't remember you until we went into the pit. Once we entered this realm all the memories came rushing back and I realized how big of a mistake I had made…"

"You realized she wasn't me," she filled in the blank.

"Yes, and I tried to escape, but she was with this guy, and he was _so strong _," he said, gesturing to his injuries. "He had claws, but I don't think he was a wolf…"

"Huan," Hope answered. "He's not a wolf, he's a dragon, a really strong one."

Landon nodded, sinking down to the floor. Hope sat down across from him, pulling anxiously on her pendant. For some reason, their reunion felt strained— and it didn't feel like their situation was to blame…

"Landon, tell me about everyone else—are they okay?" she asked nervously, dreading what his answer may be.

"Yeah," he said. "They're good— Rafael, Dr. Stalzman, MG, Lizzie…"

"Josie?" Hope asked.

"Yep, she's good," Landon said quickly, looking away from her.

Hope quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Did she and Lizzie have a fight or something?" she asked.

"No, nothing like that," he said.

"Oh," she said. Something was definitely off about his behavior.

"What about you?" he asked. "Clarke did this, didn't he? I'm so sorry, Hope, I should have been there to protect you—"

"No," she said, cutting off his rambling. "I pulled Clarke into Malivore, not the other way around," she explained.

_"What?" _Landon asked, disbelief coloring his features. "Why would you do that? He's dangerous!"

"I know," Hope answered, feeling her insides twist painfully. "We were working together for a while, but he betrayed me," she finished quietly.

She could feel the prickling of tears in her eyes, but she angrily brushed them away with the back of her hand.

_It didn't matter anymore. He didn't matter. _

"Hope?" Landon asked, brows drawn together in confusion.

"I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile.

"I'm just so glad that everyone at home is alright—and I hate that you're here, but it's so good to see your face," she said, reaching out to take his hand.

He squeezed her hand back weakly, giving her a smile as strained as the one she had just given him.

"Landon, what is it?" she asked. "Is it the pain? Because I can try to heal you," she said, moving closer to him.

"No," he said, holding up a hand to stop her. "It's not that…it's just that I have to tell you something."

"What?" she asked, a feeling of unease building in her chest. "You can tell me anything," she assured him, although she feared whatever it was he had to say.

"It's about… _Josie," _he said.

"What about her?" she asked. He had told her that Josie was safe, so what could be making him this upset?

Suddenly, realization struck her.

"Is this about the merge?" she asked. "Did she tell you about her and Lizzie?"

"Yes, she told me," he answered.

_So that was it. _

She felt a sense of relief wash over her.

"It's going to be okay," she told him. "We still have time. And when we get out of here, we're going to help them figure this out. Dr. Saltzman would never let anything bad happen to them, he loves them so much—"

Something about the look on Landon's face caused her to pause.

"You…love her too," Hope whispered.

Landon put his head in his hands, drawing his knees up to his chest.

_It was all the confirmation she needed. _

"When?" she asked.

"Over the summer," he said.

"How long have I been gone?" she asked.

"Months," he answered mechanically.

"And does she feel the same way?" she asked.

At first he didn't answer—they just sat there in a painful sort of silence. The kind of silence that threatened to consume you.

"Yes," he finally choked out.

Hope sucked in an unsteady breath.

_How was she supposed to deal with this? _

"I'm sorry," he said in a small voice.

She considered him for a moment—hunched over in his own misery. She felt like the walls of the already cramped prison cell were finally closing in.

"It's—it's not your fault," she said finally. "You didn't remember me…remember _us." _

"I didn't, but…" he let the thought trail off.

The realization cut deep, _he still wants her. _

"You're still in love with her," she said, trying her best to suppress her tears for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"Hope… _I'm so sorry," _he said, reaching out to take her hands in his.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to run.

His touch brought nothing but a feeling of cold emptiness.

"I still love you too," he said, looking into her eyes, "But it's just so complicated… Josie and I had this—_ connection. _It feels like I'm tied to her somehow, in a way I never expected, _" _he explained.

_A connection… Tied to her… _

Hope looked down to her wrist, where the red ribbon had once connected her to Clarke.

_She recalled the look of pain in his eyes, the way he had pressed his cheek into her hand, the way he had healed her back outside of the cave… _

_The coldness she felt the last time she tried to reach out to him through their bond… _

She finally succumbed, letting out a broken sob— she let the tears flow, hot and angry.

_How could things have gone so terribly wrong? _

Landon moved closer to her, putting his arm around her.

She had no idea how long she had cried, but to his credit, Landon passed no judgement, allowing her to cry her heart out on his shoulder.

When the tears finally subsided, she felt nothing but anger and a resolute sense of purpose.

She would utterly destroy Malivore for ruining her life.

_Luckily, no one did revenge better than a Mikaelson… _

* * *

It had been hours since Clarke and Akane had come down to deliver Landon to prison cell.

Hope was getting impatient, trying to distract herself by making casual conversation with Landon.

But everything felt wrong. She had told Landon little about what had happened between Clarke and herself since arriving in Malivore.

She could tell that he had a lot of unanswered questions, but he was smart enough not to ask her for an explanation.

It was still too raw—she was betrayed, _what else was there to say? _

They eventually fell silent, content enough to sit side by side, alone in their own minds.

"What is that?" Landon asked, breaking the silence.

There was a strange silvery mist drifting into the cell.

_She knew that mist. _

_"Gwyllion?" _she asked in disbelief.

She saw a hand materialize in the mist, beckoning her to take it.

She reached out, clasping the faerie's hand, solid and real. She felt herself being pulled forward, through the bars as if she was made of nothing more than smoke herself.

As soon as she found herself on the other side, the mist vanished. She turned back to see Landon watching her in disbelief.

"What was that?" he asked.

"A friend— I think," Hope said.

She reached out to pull on the cell door, but it was still locked.

"Gwyllion?" she called. "Where are you? You have to help Landon too!" she pleaded.

Nothing but silence answered her.

"Hope," Landon said, "You need to go, get out of here!"

_"I can't," _she said. "I'm not leaving you here."

"You have to—" he said, sadness in his eyes. "You're the only one who can destroy Malivore."

"I'm going to get the key," she said, ignoring him.

The last time she had seen the key, it had been hanging off of Clarke's belt.

_Shit. _

She focused her energy on casting an illusion spell, making herself invisible. She wasn't sure how effective it would be against a creature of illusions like Akane, but it was better than nothing.

She made her way up the stairs, doing her best to feel for Clarke's energy, no matter how much it hurt.

She emerged from the basement stairs into a long hallway, which was thankfully abandoned.

She made her way to the door at the end of the hall, knowing Clarke was waiting on the other side.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Clarke was laying in a large four poster bed, seemingly asleep.

She stopped dead in her tracks. This room—_ it was the same one from her dream. _

Everything from the bed to the dark wallpaper on the walls matched. The shock nearly knocked the wind out of her.

_What did it mean? _

Clarke tossed fitfully in his sleep, bringing her attention back to the task at hand.

She scanned the room, searching for the keys, hoping he would have left them on the nightstand or hanging somewhere…

Just then, Clarke turned over again, revealing the keys still attached securely to his belt.

Hope swore under her breath. _This was just perfect. _

Hope leaned over him, reaching out for the keys with a trembling hand.

_Just a little more… _

Suddenly, Clarke's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, pulling her down on top of him.

The shock of it caused her to lose focus on her invisibility spell, leaving her both shocked and fully visible as she straddled his chest.

_"What are you doing?" _he asked, voice low and angry.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, still in shock.

"I could _feel _you," he hissed through clenched teeth.

She moved to get off of him, but he reached out, grabbing both of her wrists, making it impossible for her to move.

"How did you get out of the cell?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

"That's none of your business," she shot back. "Now, Let. Me. Go." she spat, struggling against his grip.

"I don't think I will," he said, sitting up, bringing his face mere inches from her own.

"I don't know what you think you're getting out of this," she said. "But I'm going to save Landon, destroy Malivore, and then I'm going to make sure you regret ever crossing a Mikaelson," she said, still straining to free herself.

"You have no idea what's going on here—_ I have no choice," _he said, eyes burning into hers.

"We always have a choice, _Agent Clarke,"_ she said, leaning forward.

_She needed to distract him. She made a split second decision— _

Hope leaned forward, closing the gap between them by pressing her lips to his. The feeling was so much more than she expected— so much stronger than the fleeting moments when he had merely brushed his lips against hers.

After a moment, he relaxed beneath her, releasing his grip on her wrists, moving his hands to her hips, trailing higher, lifting her shirt around her waist in the process. Every inch of skin he touched left a burning trail of heat.

She moved her hands to his hair, pulling him closer—she could hear as much as feel the low growl he let out as she buried her hands in his curls.

The way he kissed was demanding, consuming her like oxygen. It was a battle of wills, pushing and pulling at each other like magnets, lips battling for dominance.

_It was unlike anything she had ever experienced before… _

She broke the kiss, pulling the keys off his belt in one smooth motion.

_"Don't" _he commanded, voice dark. _"Please…" _he added.

"You have no right to demand anything from me," she said, getting off of the bed.

"Give those back," he said, reached out a hand for the keys.

"No way in hell," she said, backing towards the window.

Suddenly, the keys were ripped from her hand, flying straight into Clarke's waiting hand.

"How the _hell _did you do that?!" she asked in shock.

_It was as if he had used magic… _

Clarke looked almost as confused as her, before breaking out in a self-satisfied smirk.

"Thanks for the kiss, Hope," he said, "Not exactly as I would have expected, but at least I knew you were real this time…"

Hope froze at his words. Did that mean the dream… was _real? _

He was watching her, gauging her reaction with calculation in his dark eyes.

Just then, she heard footsteps coming down the hall.

"You have to get out of here," he said, casting a glance towards the window.

"I'm not leaving without Landon," she said defiantly.

"You have _no choice," _he hissed.

She heard the doorknob begin to turn—_ dammit, she really didn't have a choice!_

Reluctantly, she pulled the window open, pushing herself through the small opening.

The last thing she saw was Clarke's unreadable expression before she made her way out into the darkness.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

**(Ryan)**

Ryan made his way downstairs, letting the basement door slam shut behind him. He was beyond frustrated. Not only had Hope vanished into the darkness, where he couldn't keep an eye on her, but Huan and Akane were convinced that her escape was his doing.

_Which wasn't entirely untrue. _

Nevertheless, Hope's escape had only served to complicate things. Once again, she had acted on impulse, placing herself in more danger before he could fully formulate a plan.

When Huan had found out that Hope was missing he was beyond angry—he was_ livid. _

Huan had dug a sharpened claw into Ryan's token, causing an inexplicable searing pain to course through his body. Despite his best efforts, Huan was unable to get any useful information from him—finally conceding to Ryan's insistence that he hadn't been the one who freed Hope from the cell.

_Unfortunately, this realization only served to spur on Huan's temper. _

At least as it was, Huan and Akane were keeping Hope alive. But now, Huan was on the hunt.

Ryan feared what Huan would do if he found her—a thought that plagued him every moment since she had disappeared out of his bedroom window.

Akane had found the entire situation amusing, as evident by the smirk she wore the entire time Huan raged. Apparently, her bargain with Malivore only hinged on securing Landon—an accomplishment she boasted about frequently.

Yet, _somehow, _the task of extracting information from his brother had fallen on _his _shoulders.

Ryan peered into the cell to find Landon sitting against the back wall, looking entirely too smug for his liking.

For a moment the two just stared at one another, a mutual feeling of dislike hanging between them.

"Not who you were expecting?" Ryan asked, looking down at his younger brother.

"Nope, you're _exactly _who I expected," Landon answered sharply.

"How did Hope escape?" Ryan asked, ignoring the jab.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Landon asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Ryan clenched his jaw, attempting to quell his building frustration.

_This wasn't about Landon—this was about Hope. _

"Believe it or not, I'm the friendliest face you're going to see around here," Ryan said tightly. "If you don't tell me what you know, I'll have no choice but to turn you over to more…_ persuasive _interrogators."

Landon flinched slightly at his words, rubbing his bruised jaw.

"Don't worry," Ryan continued, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm sure we can reach an arrangement before that happens…"

"I don't care what happens to me," Landon said. "I'm not going to tell you anything. You're not going to hurt her anymore," he finished with a glare.

Ryan paused for a moment—_ there was something about the way he said that._

"Is that what she told you?" he asked, lowering his voice. _"That I hurt her?" _

"Like you care," Landon said, eyeing him warily.

It was Ryan's turn to flinch this time, casting his eyes down.

"I'm the one Malivore wants," Landon said, standing to meet him at the cell door.

"Hope has nothing to do with this."

Ryan laughed humorlessly. "You just don't get it, do you?" he asked.

"Get what exactly?" Landon asked irritably. "That you're a duplicitous son of a bitch who can't stand that you lost?"

_"We've all lost!" _Ryan shouted, taking them both by surprise. "Father has plans for _all _of us. That's what he does—we're merely chess pieces on _his_ board."

"At least Hope has a fighting chance now," Landon said, looking paler by the minute.

"You know that Hope is never going to just leave you here," Ryan said. "We both know that she's going to pull some heroic stunt to save you and it's going to get us all killed in the process."

"I told her not to come back for me," Landon said, looking miserable.

"Come now, Romeo, when has Hope listened to anyone?" he asked.

Landon averted his gaze, taking a step back from the bars.

"I don't deserve her," he said. "And if she's smart, she'll realize that too," he finished miserably.

_Now that was interesting… _

"What does that mean?" Ryan asked, curiosity piqued. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked, not bothering to hide the thrill of satisfaction the thought brought him.

"Now _that _is definitely none of your business," Landon shot back at him.

"Maybe it is my business…" Ryan said, not bothering to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

"What are you talking about?" Landon snapped, glowering at him.

Ryan just shrugged, breaking into a rather self-indulgent grin.

Something akin to horror dawned on Landon's face. _"You?" _he asked, color draining from his face. "When she cried like that…it was because…" he let the thought trail off.

_Suddenly, Ryan didn't feel like smiling anymore._

"She trusted you, you know," Landon finally said. "She trusted us both, but at least I didn't _choose _to betray her."

"You think you know me, little brother, but you don't," Ryan shot back. "You may think you're better than me, Father may think you're better than me, but you're not—"

"I _am _better than you," Landon interrupted.

"No, you aren't!" Ryan shouted. "No matter how noble you think you are, you were created for the same purpose as I was. You're just a puppet on a string—_ just like me."_

He was breathing heavily, clenching the metal bars tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.

Landon just stared at him, seemingly indifferent to his outburst.

"I won't claim to know much about families," Landon said. "But I do know that you'll _never _be my brother," he said, turning his back to him.

Ryan merely clenched his jaw—_ there was nothing left to say. _

He turned to make his way back up the stairs when a sudden feeling of panic overtook him. In a moment, he was drenched in a cold sweat, gasping for air—he fell to his knees, reaching out a desperate hand to loosen his tie.

"What's happening?" Landon asked, clearly startled.

_"Hope—" _Ryan choked out. "Something's wrong," he said, beseeching the feeling to subside.

"How do you know?" Landon asked, moving closer.

"I can—_ feel _her," he said, finally finding enough strength to stand.

"How is that possible?" Landon asked. "Did you do something to her?" he asked, anger returning to his voice.

"Quite the opposite," Ryan said quietly. "Something happened when she brought me here…we're _connected _somehow."

Admitting the fact out loud brought him an overwhelming sense of relief accompanied by pure, unadulterated terror. It made things feel so..._real. _

"Connected…?" Landon echoed, frowning in confusion. "How so?" he asked.

"I don't know," Ryan said absently, desperately trying to plan his next move.

"What kind of connection are we talking?" Landon asked skeptically. "Like, a Vulcan Mind Meld? A Harry Potter and Voldemort sort of thing? Or maybe—"

_"Just— ," _Ryan interrupted him. "All that matters is that I know how she feels," he finished.

"You mean whatever just happened to you, happened to _her?" _Landon asked, clearly panicked.

"I don't know how it works exactly," he said, growing more frustrated by the moment. "But yes, we've shared pain like this before…"

"I have to get to her," Landon said.

_"You?" _Ryan asked. "You're in a cage, lest you've forgotten," he said.

"And _you _have the key, lest _you've _forgotten," Landon rebuked.

"I'm _not _going to let you out," Ryan said.

"And what, _you're _going to rescue her?" Landon asked. "You're the one who betrayed her in the first place!"

"I _didn't _betray her!" he hissed, casting a nervous glance towards the basement door.

"Does she know that?" Landon asked icily. "Because from what Hope said, you're just as big of a scumbag as you always were."

"I don't owe you any explanations— and I certainly don't owe you an escape," he said, turning on his heel to make his way back upstairs.

"I'm _not _going to abandon her," Landon said defiantly. "And you said it yourself, unless you take me with you, she's going to walk herself right back into a trap."

Ryan turned back around, facing his brother once more.

"What makes you think I'm even going to go after her?" Ryan asked. "Maybe my best course of action is to wait right here until she gets herself caught."

Landon regarded him carefully before speaking.

"I can't say _why _you're going after her," he admitted. "I don't think even _you_ know why. But you _are. _I can see it written all over your face," he said.

Ryan sighed, raking a hand through his hair. As much as he hated to admit it, Landon was right. If he went after Hope without bringing Landon along, she'd insist on going back for him. If he didn't go after her at all, there was no telling what Huan or his father would do when they found her.

He reached for the key hanging off his belt, hating what he was about to do…

* * *

**(Hope)**

The first thing she did was run.

She had no idea where she was going, but she needed to put distance between herself and that house as quickly as possible.

Her head was still reeling from her encounter with Clarke. The shock of him pulling her on top of him, the heat of their argument..._the kiss._ Just the memory of his lips on hers delivered a strange shock to her system, tingling like an electric current.

_What the hell was she thinking? _

Sure, there had been a certain level of physical attraction between them—but she had never intended to take things this far.

Not to mention Landon—the thought caused her heart to clench in guilt.

_How could she be angry with him for being with Josie after this? _

She slowed her pace, taking a moment to truly evaluate her surroundings. The illusion house Akane had created loomed on the empty horizon, out of place and foreboding.

The bad news was that there was nowhere suitable to hide until she formulated a plan. Rocky cliffs, barren and empty stretched as far as the eye could see.

The only place she would be able to hide would be a cave... As if summoned by her thoughts, she caught sight of a cave opening several yards away.

The absolute last place she wanted to go was another cave, but what else could she do? She needed time to think of a plan and sitting out in the open would make her an easy target for Huan, or any other monster that happened to come along.

_If only her invisibility spell didn't take so much energy and concentration… _

Sighing, Hope made her way towards the cave's entrance, keeping a close eye on her surroundings.

She wasn't sure why Huan and the others hadn't come for her yet—she had honestly expected an immediate pursuit.

Clarke must have stalled them—she wasn't sure why he had helped her.

_If he truly hadn't betrayed her, then why hadn't he tried to rescue her himself? _

And he must have known about Landon. Even if he had helped her, he had refused to help Landon.

She felt a spike of anger at the memory. She had warned him—her family and friends would _always _come first.

She paused at the cave's opening, straining to see into the darkness. There was no telling what could be awaiting her inside. Unfortunately for her, she knew exactly what was waiting for her on the outside...

Sucking in a breath, she stepped inside, taking care to avoid the loose rocks littering the cave floor.

_"Post tenebras spero lucem," _she whispered, summoning a ball of light in the palm of her hand. It's presence was immediately comforting. Plus, if something sinister was lurking in the cave, she would much rather see it first.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of something large moving around at the back of the cave.

_Oh shit. _

She extinguished the light, walking backwards towards the cave's entrance, not willing to turn her back on whatever was lurking inside.

She heard the noise again, _closer this time. _

She focused on her cloaking spell, praying that she'd be able to keep focused long enough to exit the cave.

"Silly girl," a female voice came out of the darkness. "I don't need to see you to know you where you are…_ what _you are," the mysterious voice said ominously.

Hope froze in her tracks, desperately trying to calculate whether or not she should risk trying to outrun whatever creature she had disturbed.

"Don't bother trying to run, little tribrid," it said. "You won't get very far…"

Whatever this monster was, it knew she was a tribrid—suddenly, she was in twice as much trouble as she thought

_Oh, screw it. _

Hope turned to bolt, cursing her decision to ever enter another cave in the first place. She only got in a few steps before she felt a crushing force pull her backwards.

Hope looked down in horror, finding herself tightly bound in the coils of what appeared to be a massive snake.

"Greetings, Hope Mikaelson," the woman's voice said in her ear.

She didn't know how the creature knew her name, but the thought was enough to chill the blood in her veins.

Hope strained her neck over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of her attacker, but the coils around her chest tightened in response, rendering her unable to look behind her.

"Do you know who I am, daughter?" the monster asked, sending a shiver down her spine.

"No," Hope choked out, grimacing against the pain. _If she didn't let up, she was certain to break a few ribs… _

"Who sent you here?" the creature asked.

"No—one," Hope said, straining in the creature's iron grip. "I was just looking for a place to hide—" she whispered.

The coils around her loosened slightly, allowing her to sneak a peek behind her.

Hope gasped—while the bottom half was clearly serpentine, the top half of the creature took the form of a beautiful woman with long, dark hair. Her copper colored skin shone softly in the darkness. However, most striking were her dark eyes, completely black except for the gold of her pupils, which were slit just like a snake.

"Who are you?" Hope asked with a mix of fear and wonder.

"I am Echidna, Mother of Monsters," the creature answered. "And depending on how you answer my questions, this may be the last conversation you ever have…"

* * *

**"In Greek mythology, Echidna (/ɪˈkɪdnə/; Greek: Ἔχιδνα, "She-Viper") was a monster, half-woman and half-snake, who lived alone in a cave. She was the mate of the fearsome monster Typhon and was the mother of monsters,** **including many of the most famous monsters of Greek myth."**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**(Ryan)**

The cell door swung open with a groan, its hinges seemingly stiff with age—an unsettling prospect considering that Ryan knew Akane had created it merely days ago.

_Just another reminder that time behaved strangely in Malivore's dimension… _

For a moment, he and Landon just stared at one another, united in an uncomfortable silence.

"If you're coming with me, you're going to have to do _everything _I say," Ryan said finally.

"Sure," Landon agreed, stepping out of the cell. "I mean, _within reason, _of course."

_"No," _he corrected. "Everything means _everything." _

"Because you're such a trustworthy guy, right?" Landon asked sarcastically.

"You have no idea what's lurking out there," Ryan said. "So, if I tell you to do something, I have my reasons."

"And let me guess, none of those reasons are to keep me alive?" Landon asked dryly.

"Truthfully? No," Ryan answered. "But for Hope's sake, let's just say our interests align at the moment."

"I'm not completely helpless, you know," Landon said. "I'm a phoenix," he said proudly.

_That had to be one of the dumbest things he had ever heard… _

Ryan considered him for a moment, trying to determine if this was another one of his brother's pathetic attempts at humor, but his unwavering look of determination seemed to indicate he was, in fact, serious.

"Are you for real?" Ryan asked, choking back laughter. "You may not be a golem, but you're sure as_ hell _not a phoenix."

"And how would you know that?" Landon asked defensively. "I _literally _burst into flames and come back to life."

"Interesting," Ryan mused. "Still not a phoenix. _Trust me _— I know my monsters."

"Than what am I?" Landon asked, clearly still annoyed.

"Not sure," Ryan admitted. "But whatever powers you have, they're something Father wants. And _that _is why you're going to do everything I say."

"So what first, _bro?" _Landon asked, rolling his eyes.

_God, he missed being alone. _

"You're going to cut me," Ryan said, already regretting his stupid plan.

"What?" Landon asked stupidly. "I mean, I don't object, but _why?" _

"You don't need to know _why, _just do what I say," Ryan replied, handing him the knife he kept strapped to his belt.

Landon watched silently as he took off his suit jacket, exposing the last decent dress shirt he was probably ever going to wear.

"Just across my back, but not too deep," Ryan warned him. "But it's gotta leave a pretty good mark—_ Ow!" _he yelped.

Landon had obviously relished the task, wasting no time making the cut, leaving his shirt ripped and bloody.

"Done," he said with a grin. "So far, I like following orders."

Ryan just glared at him, gathering his suit jacket over one arm and pulling a set of handcuffs off of the wall.

"You're wearing these," he said, cuffing Landon before he had a chance to argue. "Now, follow my lead and don't say _anything," _he warned.

Landon looked significantly less pleased than he had a moment ago, already fidgeting with the cuffs binding his wrists.

_What a baby. _

The pair made their way up the basement stairs, with Ryan holding the knife to Landon's back.

"Akane!" he shouted as he opened the basement door. "Akane, I need to talk to you," he called.

A moment later, Akane appeared around the corner, relatively unsurprised to find him holding their prisoner at knifepoint.

"What's all this?" she asked, with only moderate interest. "Huan said we weren't moving the prisoner until he came back with the tribrid."

Landon opened his mouth to speak, but Ryan pressed the tip of the knife into his back in silent warning.

"Huan just sent word that we're to move ahead with Landon while he scouts for Hope," he said.

Just as he predicted, a look of doubt crossed Akane's face—he could see her calculating behind those dark, intelligent eyes.

"He said nothing of the sort to me," she said skeptically, drawing closer.

"Huan said if you needed proof, to show you this," Ryan said, turning around to reveal the wound across his back.

"Oh, he really does have a temper," Akane laughed in delight. "If that's the case, then I guess I have no choice but to go with you," she said.

"Guess not," Ryan agreed, pushing the knife into Landon's back once more to keep him from talking.

Akane snapped her fingers and in an instant, the entire house and all of its contents vanished, leaving them standing in the middle of Malivore's wasteland once more.

"Good thing I pack light," she said with a sly smile.

* * *

"So, how's the family reunion going?" Akane asked as they walked along the rocky path.

"Oh _splendid, _thanks for asking," Landon replied, jangling his handcuffs in her direction.

Akane laughed. "Oh, Clarke, your little brother is adorable," she said. "I've really started to like him!"

Ryan remained silent—he had learned that giving Akane any kind of reaction was a dangerous game to play.

_Unfortunately, Landon had yet to learn the same lesson. _

"Oh, you _like_ me? Am I supposed to be flattered?_"_ Landon asked angrily. "You may have fooled me once, but I know what you are now," he said.

"But I've always liked you—" she said in a perfect imitation of Hope's voice. "I love you, Landon," she said in the same voice.

Landon stiffened beside him, clearly unsettled, but Akane wasn't watching Landon; she was watching him—waiting for _his _reaction.

Ryan tightened his jaw as he attempted to curb the intense wave of emotion that washed over him at the sound of Hope's voice. He wasn't about to give Akane an ounce of satisfaction.

"Come on, boys," she said, in her own voice. "We've got to pick up the pace if we're going to beat Huan to Malivore's little house of horrors."

Ryan stopped midstep, "Beat Huan?" he asked carefully. "I told you that Huan told me—"

"Oh _please," _Akane said, cutting him off. "I know Huan didn't contact you. But don't worry, I'm flexible."

Landon cast him a nervous glance.

"Because your deal with my father is to deliver Landon…" Ryan said, putting the pieces together.

"Bingo," she said with a smile. "You actually did me a favor—I deliver my end of the bargain while Malivore is still in a good mood. You know, before he realizes that Huan let Hope slip between his fingers!"

"Cash in your chips early…" he said.

_"Now _you're getting it. Too bad you had to get that little ouchie though," she said, trailing her fingers down his back.

Ryan jerked away from her touch, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"So what now?" he asked. "If you figured out that Huan never asked me to move Landon, than you've realized that I never intended on letting you deliver him to Malivore."

They had stopped walking.

"What's next is up to you, Clarke," she said, suddenly more serious than he had ever seen her.

"I have no plans of sharing the credit of bringing in Landon," she said. "So if you still want to impress daddy, you can try to beat Huan to Hope— or you can just give up and walk away," she finished with a shrug.

"Funny," Ryan said. "I don't like either of those options."

Akane just smiled.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said, eyes gleaming dangerously.

With the snap of her fingers, Akane the woman was no more—in her place was a ferocious looking fox, at least the size of a large wolf.

The fox had brilliant orange fur and luminous yellow eyes, but most impressive was the creature's many tails that fanned out around her— as beautiful and mesmerizing as dancing flames.

Ryan and Landon both took an instinctive step backwards. Akane bared her fangs, letting out a low growl.

"Uh, Clarke?" Landon asked with uncertainty. "What are your orders now?"

_"Run," _Ryan answered, swallowing the lump in his throat.

* * *

**(Hope)**

"I am Echidna, Mother of Monsters," the creature answered. "And depending on how you answer my questions, this may be the last conversation you ever have…"

"Your questions?" Hope asked the snake woman who called herself Echidna. _"What questions?" _she asked skeptically.

"Actually, _our _questions " Echidna replied coyly. "Mine and my daughter's," she said casting her gaze towards the back of the cave.

Hope stiffened in the monster's grip— As if things weren't bad enough, she was about to be outnumbered.

She watched with bated breath as a dark shadow at the back of the cave began to move, suddenly alive and under its own power.

However, Hope was surprised by the creature that came out of the darkness. Instead of another snake-like creature, what emerged was something else altogether.

The creature was both beautiful and horrifying—the head was that of a woman with a powerful, regal bearing, yet the body was that of a lioness. If that wasn't enough, powerful feathered wings rested on her back.

Suddenly, realization dawned on her.

"Your daughter is a sphinx?" Hope asked, uncertain of which creature she should be keeping a closer eye on.

"I am the mother of many monsters," Echidna said. "You should be honored to know that I also consider you kin."

Hope was unsure of how to reply, so she remained silent.

"But to answer your question, yes, the Sphinx is of my blood," she said, relaxing her grip around Hope's chest.

"Now for my queries— The first question is, how did you arrive in this realm?" Echidna asked.

"I came here of my own will," Hope answered.

"Why?" the Sphinx spoke for the first time, her voice sweet like honey.

Hope turned her attention to the creature, who was watching her with a piercing stare.

"I came to destroy Malivore," she answered truthfully.

"Malivore has imprisoned many of my children, and for that, I owe him no kindness," Echidna replied, expression hardening into something deadly.

_It sent a chill down Hope's spine. _

"But do you know the price of entering this dimension?" the Sphinx asked her.

"Yes," Hope answered softly.

"Good, then you will be able to solve my riddle," said the Sphinx.

"A riddle?" Hope asked, not liking where this going.

"Yes, a riddle," the Sphinx answered. "There is a prophecy," she explained. "And if you solve my riddle, you will be rewarded with its contents."

"And if I don't?" Hope asked, glancing towards the cave's exit.

"Then, we will have to assume the prophecy wasn't for you and your fate will be— _inconsequential," _Echidna answered.

"Tell me your riddle," Hope said, attempting to hide the fear she felt.

The Sphinx smiled and recited,

**_"You have me today,_**

**_Tomorrow you'll have more;_**

**_As your time passes,_**

**_I'm not easy to store;_**

**_I don't take up space,_**

**_But I'm only in one place;_**

**_I am what you saw,_**

**_But not what you see._**

**_What am I?"_**

Hope took a deep breath. The Sphinx had said that if she understood the consequences of entering Malivore, then she would be able to solve this riddle…

_What isn't easy to store but takes up no space? _

She closed her eyes, unable to bear the weight of the creatures' stares upon her.

_What you saw… but not what you see? _

The answer came to her like a punch to the gut—_ memories. _

_That is why the Sphinx had said she would be able to answer—the price of entering Malivore is everyone's memories… _

"Memories," Hope answered quietly, feeling the familiar pricking of tears behind her eyes.

"Correct," said the Sphinx with a delighted smile.

Echidna released Hope from her iron grip, allowing her the freedom to stand on her own two feet.

"What's the prophecy?" Hope asked, putting a safe amount of space between herself and the pair.

"Are you sure you wish to hear it?" the Sphinx asked. "Prophecies can be a burden…"

"I'm sure," she said.

_She needed all the information she could get… _

The Sphinx looked to Echidna who inclined her head in assent.

"Very well," she said. "The prophecy is this," she said, holding out a scroll in her fearsome paw.

Hope took the ancient looking piece of paper, carefully unfolding it as she read—

**_The Little King is cold and empty,_**

**_He stands in the shadow of the Hill_**

**_But the shade is of his own making_**

**_The Dream Bearer seeks absolution, _**

**_Caught between the orbit of two suns_**

**_One provides warmth and the other heat_**

**_Union both threatens destruction and promises salvation_**

**_What was taken is now given willingly_**

**_Only light can cut through darkness"_**

"Another riddle?" Hope asked dismayed.

But before the Sphinx had a chance to respond, Hope was struck with a sharp pang of fear.

_Fear that was not her own… _

The two monsters exchanged a knowing glance, retreating back into the shadows.

"Wait!" Hope shouted, but the feeling of panic came again, even stronger this time.

Despite her better judgement, Hope turned to leave the cave. _If Clarke was in danger, then Landon may be too… _

Hope tucked the scroll into her pocket and followed the feeling, letting the fear spur her forward.

_This way, this way, this way… _the bond whispered in her veins.

She pushed herself onwards, ignoring the burning in her chest, which now ached from both the crush of the serpent's tail and the pace of her sprint.

Finally, she spotted them—Clarke and Landon were running towards her at full speed, a massive fox in close pursuit.

_It must be Akane _— this must be the kitsune's true form.

When Clarke caught her eye she felt his relief as if it were her own—next to him, Landon screamed her name.

"Run!" Landon implored. "Hope, _run!" _he shouted.

_Like hell. _

_"Ventus!" _Hope shouted, stretching her hands outwards, releasing a torrent of wind that sent Akane flying backwards with violent force.

The attack took the kitsune by surprise, allowing Landon and Clarke the opportunity to get behind her.

"Hope, we have to go," Landon said. "Huan's looking for you and—"

Hope ignored him, stepping forward to face Akane, who was now upright once more, and _definitely pissed. _

"Back off," Hope warned her. "Unless you want to die right here, right now," she finished.

Akane merely snarled in response, summoning a host of blue, floating balls of flame.

"Death it is," said Hope with a shrug, summoning fire into her own palms.

"She's not working with Huan anymore," Clarke informed her. "She just wants Landon—that's the bargain she struck."

Hope nodded in acknowledgement, sending her flames forward, but Akane leapt skillfully out of the way, using her own fire as a shield.

_"Lihednat Dolchitni," _Hope hissed, closing off Akane's airway, causing the fox to thrash and sputter.

_A dark part of her delighted in the sight… It's what she deserves… _

But suddenly, where one fox had stood, there were now half a dozen—identical in their appearance and fury.

_"More illusions," _Clarke murmured darkly.

It quickly became impossible for her to tell which kitsune was real, causing her spell to slip.

_"Dammit!" _she yelled.

They were surrounded—identical foxes encircled them within an unearthly ring of fire.

Suddenly, two of the foxes sprang forward, one took Landon and the other Clarke— pulling them roughly by their shoulders, teeth sinking into flesh.

_"No!" _Hope screamed, uncertain of where to focus her magic.

"Release them!" she shouted.

_"Time to make a choice," _Akane's voice floated into her mind, cold and cruel.

_Clarke had told her she was after Landon—that had to be the real Akane… right? _

_And yet— _

Clarke's pain and misery flooded her mind. She felt it all, the physical pain, the emotional pain— she could tell he was breaking in every possible way.

She looked desperately between the brothers, Landon watched her with terrified eyes, yet Clarke wouldn't look at her at all— eyes downcast and body limp, he seemed resigned to his fate.

_"Too slow," _Akane mocked.

In perfect synchrony, the foxes released their respective victim's shoulder and went for the throat, fangs already glistening with blood.

_"VADOS!" _she screamed, sending a wave of destructive energy towards Akane, tears of anger pouring down her face.

The pair of foxes vanished, the real Akane taking Landon as her prize, the illusion leaving Clarke behind.

Hope froze in horror.

_What had she done? _

She stared at the spot where Akane and Landon had been, now empty.

Finally, she turned to Clarke, who was watching her with open shock.

"You—you picked _me?" _he asked, voice cracking in disbelief.

Hope was shaking so badly she could no longer stand—she fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands.

She felt him draw close, kneeling across from her…

_"Why?" _he asked, reaching out a trembling hand to touch her shoulder.

"I—_ don't know," _she said, voice breaking as she began to sob. "I don't know—" she said again, fearing she may be unable to say anything else ever again.

_This couldn't be real, this couldn't be real, this couldn't— _

Suddenly, Clarke reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace.

"No one has _ever _picked me…" he said, voice barely above a whisper.

His words only triggered another wave of sobs as she pulled him closer, digging her fingers into his back, reassuring herself that he was solid and real.

Her grip was surely hurting him, but he gave no complaint.

"It's okay," he said softly, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It's okay," he said over and over again as she cried—the phrase was like a mantra, holding her heart together as the rest of her threatened to break apart.

When she finally looked up, she saw that he had been crying too—tears streaked his face, just the same as hers.

They stared at one another for a moment as their breathing synced, easing into a gentle rhythm. She felt a wave of warmth and comfort come over her, whether they were his emotions or hers, she couldn't tell.

"Hope, I—I have to tell you something," he said, eyes shining as he reached out, gently brushing a tear from her cheek.

She nodded weakly, not trusting herself to speak.

"I— _I think I'm in love with you," _he said quietly.

She froze in shock, completely unable to process his words.

_This must be a mistake, another trick— _

"It's okay," he said quickly. "I don't expect my feelings to be returned. But I wanted you to know. I _need _you to know… Hope—I'm someone you can trust."

And in that moment, she felt it. The liar, the manipulator, the masked man, was gone. This was no trick, this was _real. _

"I don't know how, but somewhere along the way, I stopped looking out for just myself. Maybe it was subconscious at first, but I know it now— _you _are what I'm fighting for."

_"Ryan," _she breathed, "I—"

She stopped, words failing her— _What should she say? _

"It's okay," he said with a thin smile. "You don't have to say anything. I know I have to earn your trust."

She felt the smallest of smiles return to her face.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek, the small gesture causing her heart to flutter in response.

"Let's go get Landon" he said, as he stood. "Let's make things right."

* * *

**"The word ****_sphinx_**** comes from the Greek Σφίγξ, apparently from the verb σφίγγω (** **_sphíngō_**** ), meaning "to squeeze", "to tighten up." This name may be derived from the fact that, in a pride of lions, the hunters are the lionesses, and kill their prey by strangulation, biting the throat of prey and holding them down until they die. There was a single ****_sphinx_**** in Greek mythology, a unique demon of destruction and bad luck. According to Hesiod, she was a daughter of Orthrus and either Echidna or the Chimera, or perhaps even Ceto."**


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

(Ryan)

_Reckless. Stupid. Selfish— _telling Hope Mikaelson that he loved her was all of these things and then some.

And yet, he had done it anyway.

Ryan didn't think he would ever forget the look of surprise on her face— the way she froze, scarcely breathing as the confession tumbled from his lips.

Her wide eyes and trembling bottom lip caused him to panic—he feared his words had frightened her.

"It's okay," he said. "I don't expect my feelings to be returned. But I wanted you to know. I _need_ you to know… Hope—I'm someone you can trust."

She had chosen him—for whatever reason, his safety meant something to her and he would be damned if he was ever loyal to another being on this earth.

She watched him carefully, searching his face.

"I don't know how, but somewhere along the way, I stopped looking out for just myself. Maybe it was subconscious at first, but I know it now— _you_ are what I'm fighting for."

_"Ryan,"_ she whispered, "I—"

His heart squeezed in his chest, as it did every time she spoke his given name…

"It's okay," he said quickly. "You don't have to say anything. I know I have to earn your trust."

She gave him a smile, small but genuine—he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

In an uncharacteristic moment of spontaneity, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek, savoring the feeling of warmth it brought.

"Let's go get Landon," he said as he stood. "Let's make things right."

He held out a hand, marveling at how despite her red-rimmed eyes and weary expression, the young woman before him still radiated strength.

She accepted his hand, rising to stand beside him.

"We're finally going to face him," she said, glancing up at him. "Are you really going to help me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"You said I can trust you, but you were working with Huan— why?" she asked. Her expression was guarded but he could detect a flicker of hurt.

"It wasn't by choice," he said carefully. "I was being…manipulated."

"How?" she asked skeptically.

Ryan closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. Talking about his creation was never a pleasant topic and revealing information about his token went against his every survival instinct.

"Do you know how a golem is created?" he asked reluctantly.

"Not really," she admitted.

"My fath—" he paused, correcting himself. "Malivore was created by an alliance of witches, vampires, and werewolves— but he wasn't the first golem. A golem is created using clay or another natural material combined with a ritual."

"Landon mentioned some of that," she said with a nod of understanding.

"Well, what I didn't tell Landon, or anyone, for that matter," he said pointedly. "Is that when a golem is created, a part of the original material used to create them is kept by the creator."

Hope nodded again, a look of careful consideration in her eyes.

"This material is made into a figure, a token, that is kept by the golem's creator. It can be used as a means of control by inflicting pain. It can also be used to destroy the golem—the only way to truly destroy them," he said.

The admission made him feel vulnerable as hell. Immortality was the only thing he had, the only thing his father had ever seen as a success. And now he had admitted his greatest weakness.

"Oh!" Hope exclaimed, taking him by surprise.

"That little figure you took from your apartment—it was your token. That's why you wouldn't leave without getting it out of that chest."

Ryan felt a jolt of shock course through him.

_How could she possibly know about that?_

"How did you know about that?" he asked, perhaps more sharply than he intended.

"You don't remember?" she asked, causing him to feel a distinct sense of disappointment. _He still wasn't accustomed to feeling emotions that were not his own._

"Remember?" he asked, still confused. "When were you ever in my apartment?" he asked.

But then, he felt it—a nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

"Handcuffs?" she asked, with a smirk.

Suddenly, a memory washed over him—

_Are you kidding me?" she asked in disbelief. "Triad actually equips their thugs with handcuffs?"_

_He ignored her._

_"Or maybe you're just a cop wannabe?" she asked, mocking him._

_He unclipped the handcuffs from his belt._

_"No?" she asked. "So you're just a kinky bastard then?" she spat._

_"If that were the case," he said, pausing as he closed the space between them, "I certainly wouldn't be wasting them on a little snoop like you," he whispered in her ear._

The strange dream from the cave came rushing back to him, it had been _real._

There was his apartment, and his father, and…a ribbon?

"Clarke?" Hope asked, looking at him with concern.

"The dream in the cave…it was real?" he asked.

"You remember?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

"Yes," he said.

"Everything?" she asked, rubbing her wrist.

"The ribbon…" he said, putting the pieces together. "I thought you were a dream," he admitted, feeling a flush creep up his neck at the memory.

"Anyway," she said with a nervous laugh. "What does the token have to do with Huan? He doesn't—" Ryan watched as recognition dawned on her face. "He has it doesn't he?" she asked.

"Yes," he said tightly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked irritably, shoving his shoulder— the contact only intensified his perception of her frustration.

"I never had a chance!" he snapped back. "Plus, I've never told anyone about my token!"

"I could have helped you!" she shot back. "I thought you betrayed me!"

"Why?" he asked. "You found Landon. You could have found Malivore and left with him."

She paused, presumably taken aback by his question.

"We help each other," she said finally. "It's just…what we do."

Ryan sighed, running an unsteady hand through his hair.

"Hope, I don't trust people easily," he said carefully, articulating each word.

"I don't either, but— I trusted _you,"_ she said quietly, tears shining in her eyes once more.

"Do you still?" he asked, heart hammering in his chest.

But before she could answer, a gust of wind came sweeping up behind them, nearly knocking them off their feet.

"What the hell?" he yelled, barely audible over the wind.

A strange fog began to settle around them, carried by the strange wind.

"Gwyllion," Hope said.

"Gwyllion?" he asked, turning to find that her statement was actually a greeting. The old hag stood before them, cloaked in rags.

"Greetings," she croaked.

* * *

(Hope)

Hope would like to say that she was surprised by the hag's sudden appearance, however, by this point, she practically considered them old friends.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I've been watching you— _both _of you," she said, inclining her head in Clarke's direction.

"Why?" Clarke asked, clearly on guard.

"I haven't been completely honest with you," Gwyllion said with a shrug. "I've been waiting for a prophecy to come to pass."

Hope inhaled sharply— _could it be the same one she got from the Sphinx?_

Clarke shot her a questioning look; she could feel his confusion bleeding through their connection.

"I take it you've heard of it?" Gwyllion asked, a sly smile spreading across her face.

Hope reached into her pocket, pulling out the paper the Sphinx had given her for solving her riddle.

Gwyllion's smile grew impossibly wide.

"What is that?" Clarke asked, peering over her shoulder as she unfolded it.

"Something a Sphinx gave me," she answered, handing him the page to read.

"It's fortunate you're skilled at solving riddles," the hag said with a laugh. "Otherwise, you would have found the Sphinx's consequences to be… rather _unpleasant," _she finished, smile never leaving her face.

"What's the meaning of this?" Clarke asked, looking between her and Gwyllion.

"It means that you're going to get something of mine back," Gwyllion answered.

"Why would we do anything for you?" Clarke asked sharply.

"Clarke," she said. "Gwyllion is how I escaped from Akane's cell."

"Why?" Clarke asked, keeping his focus on Gwyllion.

"Cause a little chaos here, cause a little chaos there…it makes life more interesting," she said with a shrug.

Hope found herself growing impatient— if Gwyllion knew something about the prophecy she needed to know before she disappeared again.

"Gwyllion, what does the prophecy have to do with us?" she asked.

"I'm the 'Little King,'" Ryan said confidently. "And Landon is the 'Hill.'"

"Clever boy," said Gwyllion, giving him a wink.

"What?" Hope asked in confusion, frustrated to be left out of the conversation.

"Our names—'Ryan' is Irish for 'Little King' and 'Landon' is English in origin, meaning 'Long Hill,'" he explained, keeping a wary eye on Gwyllion.

"The second paragraph is about you," he said, avoiding eye contact. "The 'Dream Bearer' is 'Hope,' and the suns refer to Landon and I… the 'sons' of Malivore."

She glanced down, skimming the second paragraph— _"Caught between the orbit of two suns; One provides warmth and the other heat…"_

_Was this about her damn love life?_

"How do you just_ know_ what this means?" she asked Clarke, shooting him an accusatory glare.

"I'm old," he said with a shrug. When she didn't respond, he sighed. "Fine, and I'm a nerd," he admitted.

"Fine," said Hope. "But what does the rest of it mean?" she asked.

"Could be anything," Gwyllion said with a laugh. "I'm only interested in the last piece of the prophecy— the last line to be exact," she said.

"Here," she said pointing to the line with her crooked, bony finger.

It read, _"Only light can cut through darkness."_

"Well that's broad. So what does it mean?" Hope asked.

"It means that bastard has my sword and I want it back," Gwyllion answered with a snarl, looking more dangerous than she had ever seen her before.

"A sword?" Clarke asked. "You don't mean…the Sword of Light?" he asked, eyebrows arched in surprise.

"The _what?"_ Hope asked, feeling her patience growing dangerously thin.

"The Claidheamh Soluis," Ryan answered. "It's a sword from Irish legend; it's usually kept by a giant or… a hag."

"Mine," said Gwyllion, possessiveness dripping from the word. "Malivore stole it and then trapped me here!" she shouted.

"This sword…why did Malivore want it?" Hope asked, a sense of unease settling over her.

"Because it can _destroy_ him," Gwyllion answered with a smile.

"Is that true?" Hope asked, turning to Clarke, who suddenly looked extremely pale.

"Theoretically, yes," he answered. "It can be used to extinguish an external life force…"

"Like your—-" Clarke placed a finger on his lips, shooting her a look of warning.

_The token. Of course, Malivore had a token!_

"Silly boy, I know all about how golems are created," Gwyllion said with a roll of her eyes. "I do not care what happens to you. I only want my sword returned and if you do not punish Malivore, then I will," she said.

"Then why do you need us to get it for you?" Hope asked. "Why not retrieve it yourself?"

"Because he keeps it in that cursed lair!" she hissed. "It is sealed with his blood—only those who share his blood or given his permission may enter," she explained.

"If that's the case, then why did you try to kill Clarke when you first met us?" she asked. "You tried to lead him into a pit!"

Gwyllion grinned at that as if reminiscing over a fond memory.

"Gwyllion?" Hope asked, trying to regain the hag's attention.

"Retrieve the sword," she said, growing blurry around the edges.

_Not again!_

"No!" Hope shouted, "Do _not_ disappear again!" Yet, unsurprisingly, it made no difference. Between one moment and the next, Gwyllion vanished in a silvery swirl of mist.

"Come on," said Clarke, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Let's go find a sword and kill my dad."

* * *

"Sword of Light", or "Shining Sword", or "a white glaive of light", is a trope object that appears in a number of Irish and Scottish Gaelic folktales.

"The folk tales featuring the claidheamh soluis typically compels the hero to perform (three) sets of tasks, aided by helpers, who may be a servant woman, "helpful animal companions", or some other supernatural being. The majority of are also bridal quests.

The sword's keeper is usually a giant (gruagach, fermór) or hag (cailleach), who oftentimes cannot be defeated except by some secret means. Thus the hero or helper may resort to the sword of light as the only effective weapon against this enemy. But often the sword is not enough, and the supernatural enemy has to be attacked on a single vulnerable spot on his body. The weak spot, moreover, may be an external soul"


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

**(Hope)**

Hope watched in dismay as Gwyllion vanished, her presence carried away on the wind. She had always suspected that there was an ulterior motive to her assistance, but she had never anticipated it would be the key to defeating Malivore

She turned her attention back to the scroll in her hand, reading the prophecy for what felt like the hundredth time…

_"Caught between the orbit of two suns…" _

The words leered up at her from the page, bringing on a fresh wave of guilt.

She could still picture the pained expression on Landon's face as Akane held him in her jaws. Not long ago, the choice would have been simple— there would have been no hesitation.

_But that was before._

The heaviness of her decision felt unbearable, but it was nothing compared to the knowledge that if forced, she would make the same choice again…

Clarke had knocked at the door to her heart and somewhere along the way she had opened it, only a crack—but it was all that he needed.

He infuriated her, pushed her, _tempted _her…

She looked to Clarke standing next to her— his presence had felt different since their encounter with Akane. More specifically, since his confession…

_Agent Ryan Clarke was in love with her. _

The shock of his declaration had yet to wear off—part of her feared that he would take it back at any moment, proving her a fool for caring.

And yet, she could feel his sincerity; it was apparent in his every word, every move he made.

His feelings nudged against her own— _Bewilderment, gratefulness, devotion. _

"Clarke?" she asked hesitantly, finding herself uncertain of what to say now that they were alone.

"Yes?" he asked, still studying the scroll over her shoulder.

"Do you know what the rest of this means?" she asked, trailing a finger down to the last paragraph. "The part about what was taken being willingly given?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted with a frown. "But, based on everything else, I have a feeling we're going to find out."

Hope reached for her pendant, rubbing it between her forefinger and thumb, pulling anxiously at the chain.

After a moment, Clarke reached out to stay her hand, gently covering it with his own.

"It's going to be okay," he said softly, meeting her eyes. "You're the strongest person I've ever known."

She closed her eyes, nodding weakly. _It was up to her. She would bear it all, she had to… _

"But," he interjected, releasing her hand to gently lift her chin. "You don't have to be. I'm here for you— you won't have to do this alone."

She took a shaky breath, amazed at how well he seemed to know her. Even with Landon it had never been like this—they had risked life and limb for each other, but it was never what she wanted, never what she _needed._ She didn't want to be the protector or the protected—all she ever wanted was a partner.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He nodded, giving her a small smile—the imperfect, lopsided one that she loved.

"I know you feel responsible for what happened to Landon. I know you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders… but none of this is your fault," he said, a surprising fierceness in his eyes.

_It wasn't her fault— _

It was something she had told herself so many times, about so many things…

But hearing someone else say it like this, without sympathy— only conviction, made her actually dare to believe it.

She suddenly felt unsure of what to say, but it felt wrong to let his words go unanswered…

"Well, dragging you here was my fault," she blurted out.

_Oh God— Why the hell did she bring that up?_

Clarke just stared at her for a moment, the strangest expression on his face; it was something between confusion and shock.

For a horrible moment she feared she had made a huge mistake, but a second later he burst out laughing.

"Alright, that was very much _your_ fault," he said, still smiling.

_"You always make me laugh," _he had told her— There was something exhilarating about the knowledge that there was more to him, something that only she was able to bring out.

"So does that mean you forgive me?" she asked.

"Help me destroy this dimension forever and we'll call it even," he said with a wink.

"Deal," she agreed.

* * *

**(Ryan)**

Ryan kept turning the words of the prophecy over in his mind as they walked ever closer to Malivore's misshapen fortress in the rocks.

_"Union both threatens destruction and promises salvation… What was taken is now willingly given."_

He knew his father had planned to use possession once he escaped from the pit, but now he feared that his plans may have moved ahead.

Hope walked alongside him in companionable silence, but he could feel the anxiety and guilt that clung to her.

_At least she knew she wasn't alone… _

He was so lost in thought that he almost tripped when she held out an arm to stop him.

"What?" he asked in surprise, looking over to her.

"It's a moat," she observed, pointing out ahead of them. Sure enough, there was dark river of Malivore's quicksand stretching out before them, completely surrounding the foreboding, rocky fortress.

"It's the same sand that blocks my magic," she noted ruefully.

"It's the same sand that almost _killed_ you," he added pointedly. The memory of pulling her limp form out of the sand caused him to shudder.

"How do we get across?" she asked.

There was no obvious solution—the dark sand turned the fortress into its own island, virtually inaccessible.

"Need a ride?" a sarcastic voice asked from behind them.

Ryan and Hope spun around, a shared sense of panic jolting through them.

It was Huan.

_Of course it was._

"You're too late," Hope said. "Akane already betrayed you."

Huan laughed, sounding every bit the unhinged monster her knew him to be.

"Actually, I'm here for you," Huan said pointing at Hope. "I just had a funny feeling that you'd be showing up here…" he finished with a nasty grin.

Ryan could feel Hope's magic crackling in her veins—his hyper awareness of her power felt strange.

"And hey, it looks like you and the suit made up— too bad it looks like someone is missing… " he said.

_"Lihednat Dolchitni!"_ Hope shouted, closing her hand into a fist.

Suddenly, Huan was on his knees gasping for air.

_It was the same spell she had used on Akane during their fight. _

Despite his obvious physical peril, Huan's grin never faltered— Ryan watched in horror as he reached for the pouch around his neck, summoning a single razor-sharp claw to stab his token inside.

Excruciating pain wracked his body, causing him to collapse to the ground. He had never longed so dearly for death…

_"Ryan!"_ Hope screamed, falling to her knees next to him.

Suddenly the pain stopped, but instead of relief, all he could feel was an intense feeling of emptiness.

"Now, let's be civil," Huan said to Hope. "You don't want me to have to do _that_ again…"

"You absolute _bastard,"_ she spat at him.

"Guilty as charged," he responded. "And trust me, I'm going to enjoy every moment of this…"

Ryan watched as Huan transformed into his dragon form, emerald scales glowing in the darkness.

Hope reached an arm around him, helping him to his knees.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, panic in her eyes. "He still has the pouch," she observed, pointing to the dragon's neck.

"How did you kill his brother?" Ryan asked.

"I caused a rock explosion—a piece severed his neck," she answered hastily.

Huan was airborne now, clearly preparing to strike.

"Over there," Ryan said, pointing to a nearby rock formation. "Can you use those rocks to crush him?"

"No!" Hope shouted. "I mean, _yes,_ but it could crush your token—what happens if it's destroyed?" she asked, fear shining in her eyes.

_He would die—permanently. _

"Just a little pain, but it's worth the risk," he lied.

Suddenly, Huan swooped down, claws extended—Ryan instinctually raised an arm in protection, but the blow didn't come…

What felt like an explosion of energy propelled Huan backwards—he turned to Hope who was staring at him in shock.

"How the _hell_ do you keep using magic?" she asked, eyes wide.

Ryan remembered when he had pulled the keys from her hand at the prison house—it had been the strangest feeling.

"I—I don't know," he said. "It's never something I could do before!"

A ferocious roar interrupted their exchange—

"We're going to talk about this later!" she said, jumping to her feet.

"Let me help you," he implored. "If I can use magic, maybe there's something I can do!"

She shot him a skeptical look before narrowly rolling out of the way of Huan's waiting talons.

_"Vados!" _she shouted, extending her arms outward, sending a similar wave of energy that he had just used.

"I'm going to lure him to those rocks—I'm the one he wants," Hope shouted, already running. "If I can trap him under those rocks, you need to get the token!"

Sure enough, Huan followed Hope towards the rock, coming heart wrenchingly close to her every time he dove down. 

Ryan followed the pair, ignoring the protests of his aching body.

When Hope crouched behind a rock for cover, he saw his chance. He held out his hand, the same as he had watched Hope do earlier…

_"Vados,"_ he said quietly, focusing his energy on the rock above Huan—he felt ridiculous, _he was no witch… _ But then he felt it, a warmth that he recognized as Hope; this was _her_ power.

The rocks cracked and gave way, falling onto the dragon, pinning him to the ground. For a terrifying moment he feared he had been too reckless—but as the dust settled, he could see that the dragon's torso and his token were unharmed.

The rocks had fallen on Huan's lower half and tail, causing him to shriek in a mixture of anger and pain.

Hope made her way out from behind the rocks, quickly assessing the situation. As soon as she deemed it safe, she ran to him, throwing her arms around him. He relished the feeling, burying his face into her shoulder, holding her as tightly as he dared.

"Your token!" she said, suddenly remembering. "We have to go get it!"

They turned to where Huan had fallen only to find him human once more, seemingly unconscious.

Hope wasted no time making her way to him, snatching the pouch from around his neck, paying no mind to the rubble that continued to rain down on his unconscious form.

"Here," she said, offering him the pouch; "This belongs to you."

_She was really returning it to him—_

Ryan cursed himself for not trusting her with this information sooner—_how had he been so selfish? _

"Thank you," he said, trying to hold back the tears he felt prickling at his eyes. He placed the pouch around his neck, feeling an immediate sense of ease.

She smiled at him and in that moment he was sure—he would never love anything more.

* * *

They made their way back to the edge of the moat, now exhausted and still lacking a solution on how to reach the fortress.

"Do you remember what Gwyllion said about how she couldn't enter the fortress?" Hope asked.

"She said you had to have Malivore's permission or his blood to enter," he answered.

"Does that mean I won't be able to enter?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "But I think I know why you need to have his blood—when we first encountered the sand I didn't drown like you…"

"What do you mean?" she asked, watching him carefully.

"I connected with Malivore—directly. I think having his blood let me use the sand like a portal."

"So that's how you were able to get out of the pit without help!" she said accusingly. "No wonder you were so weird about it…"

"I warned you not to trust me," he said with a shrug.

"Does that still stand?" she asked coyly.

"What do you think?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Before she could respond, he heard the sound of quiet footsteps behind them—he looked over his shoulder to see Huan standing there.

He opened his mouth to warn Hope, but it was too late—

"Delivery complete," Huan said triumphantly as he pushed them backwards into the dark, sandy moat.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

**(Hope) **

Huan had struck without warning— One moment she was puzzling over how to cross the moat of quicksand and the next she was falling into it, shoved forcefully from behind.

She didn't even have a chance to scream; the sand swallowed her eagerly, hastily pulling her into its depths.

Hope kept her mouth shut tightly, but it made little difference—the sand's crushing weight threatened to choke her regardless.

_She was going to drown… _

Just when she feared she couldn't take it any longer, the crushing, sinking feeling suddenly abated. It was replaced by a strange sensation of weightlessness.

_Was she dead?_

"Hope!" a voice called.

Her eyes flew open, revealing a dark void— empty and seemingly endless. She turned to the direction of the voice to find Clarke floating a short distance away, looking as panicked as she felt.

"Clarke!" she exclaimed, reaching out for him. He quickly bridged the distance between them, grabbing ahold of her hand and pulling her towards him.

She was instantly reminded of Clarke's nightmare—they had been alone then too, suspended in a void just like this one… If it wasn't for the dark sand covering them both, she would have believed this to be just another bad dream.

"Where are we?" she asked, hating the way her voice shook.

"This is the heart of Malivore's consciousness," he explained. "But how are _you_ here?" he asked, eyes wide with surprise.

"Malivore's _consciousness?"_ she asked in disbelief; the very notion made her feel ill.

"How the hell did we end up here?"

"I'm not sure how _you're_ here, but this is where I ended up the last time I fell into the sand," Clarke answered, voice low.

He seemed exceptionally nervous— she watched as he scanned the area around them with frantic eyes.

She was about to ask him what was wrong when she suddenly had the unsettling feeling of being watched.

The sensation reminded her of a quote by Nietzsche… "_And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." _

_"Hope Mikaelson,"_ a voice boomed out of the darkness, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

She knew instantly— _it was Malivore. _

_"At last you have arrived,"_ the voice said, loud enough that she could feel the words reverberating in her chest.

Clarke squeezed her hand, but she could feel his fear echoing through their connection. This was the creature that had used and abused him all these years… the source of all his torment.

Hope felt a surge of anger wash over her— _she couldn't wait to make Malivore suffer… _

"So _sorry_ to keep you waiting," she said snapped, forgetting the fear she felt only moments before.

Dark laughter rang out through the darkness, surrounding them from every direction.

"And the prodigal son returns," Malivore added, addressing Clarke for the first time.

"Hello, _Father,"_ Clarke answered tightly, squeezing her hand again.

_It's okay, it's okay, it's okay— _she urged her words, or at least her feelings, to reach him.

"It's a shame you didn't bring the tribrid to me sooner… I'm sure I don't have to tell you that our deal is now null," the voice boomed.

Clarke stiffened beside her, jaw clenched.

She turned to him, a small wave of uncertainty fleeting through her.

"Hope, that was…_before,"_ he whispered to her, his expression pained.

Although it was hard to admit, she had always known it was possible that Clarke had a deal with Malivore— but things were different then.

"I am curious," Malivore began. "Do you regret your choice? I can feel her magic on you, tethering you like a dog… It seems you've merely sold yourself to another master."

She noticed Clarke flinch in response to his accusation. Hope gritted her teeth —_this was personal. _

"You have no idea what you're talking about— I am _nothing _like you," she bit out.

"Oh, but you _are," _Malivore said, cruelty dripping from his words. "It's one of the reasons I'm so eager to meet you."

"If you're so _eager_ to meet me, then why are you hiding?" she asked. "Let's meet—_face to face!"_ she shouted into the darkness.

"Face to face?" Malivore asked, seemingly amused. "You may want to be careful what you wish for…"

Once again, his sinister cackle filled the void— his bellowing laughter began to shake the space around them, sending them into a sudden free fall.

Hope screamed, clinging desperately to Clarke's hand as they fell. She could feel his terror as intensely as her own—

She had no warning of the ground's approach and swore when she landed painfully on her back_._

She looked over to find Clarke sprawled out next to her. A feeling of déjà vu came over her— _it was eerily similar to how they arrived in this dimension. _

She pulled herself to her feet, ignoring the aching pain. Wherever they were, it was dark— but not as dark as the void; she could just make out the stone walls around her.

"Clarke— Are you alright?" she whispered, kneeling down next to him.

"This is getting really _old…"_ he grumbled, pulling himself up. "And look, another suit ruined!" he exclaimed, gesturing dramatically.

She couldn't help but chuckle—_at least he was okay… _

"So, where are we?" she asked, moving closer to him.

"Think you can shed a little light?" he asked, wiggling his fingers in the air. "Or is the sand blocking your magic again?"

_Shit! The sand… _

She did a quick check, reaching out for her magic… _Warm, familiar, electric_—she could feel it respond to her call.

"I—I think I'm alright," she said quietly. "I can still feel it…"

Clarke gave her an appraising look. "You were able to connect to Malivore in the pit too— Even though the last time you almost drowned…" he said.

"I remember," she said with a shudder.

"What's changed?" he asked.

"I don't know… Since when have you been able to use magic?" she challenged.

"Touché," he answered with a grin. "Do you think it's because of… this?" he asked, gesturing between them.

"You think we're gaining aspects of each other's abilities?" she asked.

"Maybe," he answered. "Think about it, I'm able to use magic—_your magic. _And you're able to connect with my father and the sand doesn't affect you anymore, right?"

_Let's find out._

_"Post tenebras spero," _she whispered, summoning a glowing ball of light into the palm of her hand.

Clarke's eyebrows raised in surprise, she couldn't help but give him a self-satisfied smirk, but the moment was short lived.

"What is this place?" he asked, sucking in a breath.

She turned to find rows and rows of prison cells lining the dark, desolate hallway behind her.

"I think we've finally made it inside Malivore's fortress…" she answered.

* * *

**(Ryan) **

The cells were all empty, which somehow made him feel even less at ease.

"Where do you think all of the…_prisoners _went?" she asked carefully.

"No idea," he answered. "More importantly, where is Malivore?"

She shook her head, tugging anxiously at her necklace.

"Hello?" a small voice came from somewhere further down the hallway, causing them both to freeze.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" the voice asked—a very_ familiar_ voice…

"That sounds like Landon," Hope whispered anxiously.

"It certainly _sounds _like him," he answered.

"Do you think it's a trap?" she asked, wary again.

"Almost certainly," he answered. "But that's not going to stop you from going to check, is it?" he asked.

"No," she answered honestly.

He sighed— "Well, let's get on with it."

They walked cautiously down the dark hall, lit only by the orb of light in Hope hand— While he was glad to have enough light to see, the orb's soft glow caused strange shadows to appear, dancing on the walls of the otherwise empty cells.

"Hello?" Landon called again, louder this time—_they were getting closer. _

"We're coming," Hope called into the darkness.

A few moments later, they came upon the end of the cell block and there, in the very last cell, was Landon.

"Hope!" he shouted, rushing up to the bars. "What happened to you guys?" he asked.

"Courtesy of Huan, I'm afraid," she answered. "Honestly, it's a long story… Are you okay?" she asked.

"For the most part," he answered with a shrug.

"Landon, I want to tell you how sorry I am… I never intended to let Akane to hurt you," she said quietly.

"Don't worry about it. I understand," he said with a smile.

"I really am sorry," Hope repeated—Ryan hated seeing her so guilty.

Landon just nodded. "Can you get me out of here?" he asked.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, raising a hand to cast a spell before stopping short. _"Wait— _what's my favorite milkshake?" she blurted out.

_What?_

"Peanut butter blast, whipped cream on the bottom," he replied with a grin.

He could feel Hope's relief—presumably that was the answer she was looking for. He decided to make a mental note…

_"Dissera portus," _Hope said, reaching out a hand towards the cell door— a moment later, it sprung open, without even a hint of resistance.

"Thanks, Hope. Now, let's get out of here," Landon said, stepping out of the cramped cell.

Just then, Ryan swore he saw a strange shadow move behind Lanon's shoulder—_this place was really getting to him. _

"Who locked you in here?" he asked Landon, uneasy with how smoothly things were going.

"Akane," he answered. "She threw me in this cell and left to get Malivore," he explained.

_Something wasn't quite right… _

"She's going to be back any minute," Landon warned, peering down the hallway.

"Do you know the way out?" Hope asked.

"This way," a female voice answered from behind them.

He knew that voice anywhere,_ it was Akane. _

"Hello, friends," Akane greeted them. She looked as beautiful and graceful as ever—all trace of the bloodthirsty fox had vanished.

"You _bitch," _Hope snarled, moving to stand protectively in front of Landon and himself.

Ryan placed his hand on her shoulder—_patience. _

He knew she could feel his intention, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt her impulsive anger cool.

_Now was not the time for another fight—now was the time for strategy. _

"As much as I'd love a rematch," Akan taunted, "I'm just here for…_Landon." _

Ryan looked to Landon—his face remained strangely impassive.

"I'm not going to let that happen," Hope said defensively.

"Well, I suppose I could bring you _all _upstairs," Akane answered, pausing to let out a low whistle.

Suddenly, the shadows within the cells began to move, their dark forms looked like ink bleeding down the stone walls.

"Hope, look out!" he called, attempting to pull her away from the wall where the shadows crept. But it was too late, as hard as he pulled, it was as if she was chained to the spot.

"What are these?" she yelled, straining against the shadowy arms holding her in place.

"Say hello to the Tariaksuq—_the shadow people,"_ Akane answered with a wicked grin.

_To hell with strategy_— Ryan tried to launch himself at Akane, but suddenly found his feet frozen in place. He looked down to find shadowy hands wrapped around his ankles.

"While I have you here, why don't you hand that token over?" Akane asked, pointing to the pouch around his neck.

"I would love nothing more than to take one more victory from Huan," she added.

"Clarke! Over here!" shouted Landon— somehow, he had slipped behind Akane and was nearly halfway back down the hallway.

Akane looked over her shoulder in surprise, giving him a split second to make a decision. As much as he _hated_ the idea of giving Landon his token, he hated the idea of Akane getting it even more.

He yanked the pouch over his head and sent it sailing over Akane's head.

"Got it!" Landon shouted, holding the pouch up in triumph. 

"Run, Landon!" Hope shouted. "Get out of here—_find Gwyllion!" _

Suddenly, Landon's expression darkened…

"I _knew_ it," he said. "That hag thought she could outsmart me, but she was _wrong." _

An icy feeling of dread washed over him.

"Landon?" Hope asked apprehensively. He could feel her emotions swirling, but he was powerless to comfort her.

Landon—or _not_ Landon— smiled before breaking out in laughter.

_Dark, cruel laughter—laughter he knew all too well… _

"Hello, Father," Ryan said, acknowledging the truth before him— _Landon was possessed by Malivore. _

"It took you long enough… Although, you always were a little slow," Malivore answered in Landon's voice.

Akane giggled.

"But—_how?"_ Hope asked. "You knew about the milkshake…"

"My time playing Hope Mikaelson really paid off, huh?" Akane asked, giving her a wink.

_"No!"_ Hope screamed. "What have you done?"

Malivore ignored her as he secured the pouch with Ryan's token around his neck. Ryan felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

"I said, _what _have you done?" Hope asked again, pure malice in her voice.

Malivore made his way back to Hope, studying his prey.

"I'll tell you what I've done," he answered, watching her struggle against the shadow creatures' grip. "I've merely completed step one—and I _can't wait_ for you to see what's next…"

* * *

**"In Inuit mythology the Tariaksuq is a humanoid creature associated with shadows, invisibility and obscurity.**

**It is said that, for the most part, they are the same as any other human being. They have houses, families, weapons, tools, and more. Where they deviate from normal people, however, is that they are not visible by looking straight at them. In looking directly at them, they either disappear into the separate world which they occupy, apart from our own, or they are only seen for the shadow they cast. They only become visible if they are killed."**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

**(Hope) **

_Numb… _

_She felt completely and utterly numb._

Malivore had possessed Landon, leaving no trace of the boy she knew behind. It felt different somehow from Akane's illusions—she could feel that this was really Landon, but it was as if he had been completely hollowed out inside.

She felt Clarke's emotions brush against her mind, soft and warm. She knew he was trying to comfort her.

_But he shouldn't— She didn't deserve it. _

Landon was gone and she had led Clarke right back into his abuser's clutches—she even managed to lose Clarke's token.

_There was no denying it… This was all her fault. _

She blinked back tears as she strained against the shadowy creatures keeping her restrained.

"Don't bother struggling," Akane advised her. "You've already lost."

"Hope will never stop fighting and neither will I," Clarke snapped, straining against his own semi-transparent captors.

His words nearly caused her to lose the battle with her tears—

_He really believed in her… _

Malivore smirked, taking in the scene.

"How interesting—even with your life hanging in the balance, you still choose her_," _he said, tapping the pouch around his neck.

"Clarke… What does he mean?" she asked, feeling her stomach drop.

He avoided her gaze, hanging his head low.

Akane broke out in laughter.

"Don't you know?" she asked. "If a golem's token is destroyed, they die—_permanently!" _

Pure dread seized her.

_"You never told me,"_ she whispered, tears now flowing freely; she could feel his guilt.

"It never _mattered_ before—no one besides me ever cared if I lived or died," he said quietly.

"I care!" Hope shouted, voice cracking. "I've lost too many people I care about, I won't lose you too!"

"Thank you," he whispered. "For the record, I don't plan on losing you either," he said, breaking out into a lopsided grin.

_She didn't know whether she wanted to kiss him or kill him. _

"Bring them upstairs—I'll be waiting," Malivore said stonily before vanishing into thin air.

A jolt of panic coursed through her— _He could use magic?_

Hope looked to Clarke in confusion, but he seemed just as surprised as she did.

"Let's go," Akane said, beckoning the shadow figures to follow. She summoned several glowing, orbs of foxfire to light the way.

Hope shivered as the shadowy hands tightened their grip around her, half dragging her down the long hallway.

"What else has Malivore promised you?" Clarke asked.

Akane didn't answer, but Hope noticed the way her back stiffened at the question.

"He hasn't, has he?" Clarke asked. "He hasn't promised you anything _new_—you're just here because he hasn't fulfilled his end of the bargain."

"Shut up," Akane snapped, her voice echoing down the empty hall.

_Hope could tell that he hit a nerve… _

"That's how it will always be," Clarke continued. "Malivore will always want something more—no deal is ever done."

Hope could feel Clarke's sadness and frustration—he was speaking from personal experience.

"No one tricks a trickster," she replied haughtily, pausing in front of a large, wooden door.

Hope made careful note of Akane's reaction, storing the information for later. She knew by Clarke's guarded expression that he had noticed her strange behavior as well.

Akane pulled the heavy door open, revealing a set of stone stairs leading up into the darkness.

"Prisoners first," she said, stepping out of the way to allow the shadowy guards to begin pushing them up the steps.

The staircase was damp and narrow with a distinct musty odor. The smell reminded her of the lower levels of the Mikaelson family home in New Orleans—but it was impossible to forget that she was a long way from home…

The tightness of the space forced them to walk single file up the steps—except for the shadow figures who kept their grip on her shoulders while half melting into the stone wall.

_She tried not to let the strangeness of their movements unnerve her._

Clarke must have felt her unease, because a moment later she felt the faintest touch of his fingertips on the back of his hand.

The sensation immediately grounded her, calming her the same way holding her family necklace usually did.

_She willed her gratitude to reach him. _

After dozens of steps, the stairwell finally emptied them into a small alcove. Unfortunately, the only thing visible was a long hallway, equally as dark as the one they had left behind downstairs.

"Let me by!" Akane said as she tried to push past the shadowy figures.

"I said, _move,"_ she snapped, suddenly pulling a slim blade from her sleeve— in a flash, Akane slashed at one of the shadow figures, causing it to tumble backwards down the stairs.

Hope gasped in surprise as the figure suddenly turned into a solid, human man with blood pouring from his neck.

The remaining shadow figures quickly parted to allow Akane through.

"This way," Akane directed as she made a left down the hall.

Clarke and Hope were forced to follow as the remaining figures pulled them along with renewed vigor.

"Where are you taking us?" Hope asked, fishing for some type of clue.

"You'll find out soon enough," Akane answered curtly.

They continued to follow Akane and her eerie foxfire, which only served to heighten the ghostly atmosphere.

But Akane didn't speak another word.

It seemed clear that she was still annoyed by Clarke's comments about Malivore— While she hadn't known Akane for long, she knew the kitsune never missed an opportunity to tease or antagonize.

"Malivore is ready for you," a gravelly voice spoke out of the darkness.

"Bring the restraints," Akane commanded, beckoning the mysterious newcomer forward with a wave of her hand.

Heavy footsteps advanced towards them, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of metal chains jangling.

Hope shifted anxiously, straining to see what type of creature would emerge out of the darkness.

A moment later, a truly enormous humanoid figure stepped out of the shadows—the creature appeared to be as tall as three average sized men with muscular arms the size of tree trunks.

The giant carried two sets of chains, which appeared like toys in his massive hands.

"Thank you, Gogmagog," Akane said as the giant locked the chains around their wrists with surprising dexterity.

As soon as the chains were secured, the shadow figures released their grip, sliding down the hallway and disappearing into the darkness.

"Gogmagog, the leader of the giants?" Clarke asked.

"I am," the giant answered.

"Do you know what treasure my father keeps? What prize of Ireland?" he asked.

"Enough," Akane interjected. "Return to your post, Gogmagog," she commanded.

The giant considered Clarke for a moment before making his way back the way he had come. A moment later, Hope heard the sound of a heavy door being swung open followed by a bright light emanating down the hallway.

"Enter," she heard the giant say from his post outside the door.

_This was it… _

* * *

**(Ryan)**

Ryan couldn't believe it— Gogmagog was _here,_ working for his father. Gogmagog had once been the leader of an ancient race of giants who inhabited the British Isles. He had been both respected and feared by the people.

_It seemed no one was exempt from the will of Malivore… _

Akane led them into the massive chamber which was brightly lit in comparison to the darkness from which they came.

He could feel Hope's anxiety intertwining with his own. He desperately wished to comfort her, but he knew she would see through the attempt— the truth was he was absolutely _terrified. _

As they crossed the threshold into the chamber, he had to resist the urge to run…

The design of the space was similar to a Roman colosseum, complete with rows and rows of benches arranged circularly, stretching all the way to the massive rock ceiling.

Filling the seats were monsters of every kind—some human-like, others distinctly _different. _From every angle, creatures with horns, fangs, and wings leered at them with hungry eyes.

He and Hope exchanged a horrified look—_this was much worse than he imagined. _

At the center of the space was Malivore, in the body of Landon. He was seated in a large, stone throne with a massive green dragon chained behind him.

_He was immediately reminded of a perverse medieval king. _

The dragon appeared ragged with deep gashed down its side. It was also wearing a heavy-looking metal muzzle around its jaws—the look it gave them read as pure hatred.

_Ryan didn't need confirmation, he knew it was Huan. _

"Clarke, look," Hope whispered, drawing his attention to something laying behind the throne— it was his father's original golem body; and next to it, was the hilt of what appeared to be an extremely large sword.

"Welcome to my prison," Malivore greeted them. "It's fitting that you should join me here, son, since it is your fault this place was ever created."

The monsters in the crowd all began to jeer, hiss, and howl at his words. Ryan flinched inwardly— the sound was even more unsettling than the banshee's wail.

"But in the end, it did work out for the best. Thanks to you, I have secured an even greater prize…" Malivore said, turning his attention to Hope.

"You won't get _anything_ from me," Hope asserted, jutting out her chin in defiance.

Malivore laughed wickedly— "As it turns out, you have no choice in the matter," he answered.

Despite the words coming from the lips of a teenage boy, the cruelty in his father's tone still cut deeply.

"Just let us go. You already have what you wanted," Clarke said, stepping protectively in front of Hope.

"Landon's body may have been enough at one time, but no longer," Malivore answered, standing up from his throne.

"You can't possess us all, so take me if you want. Just let your sons go free—they've suffered enough," Hope said, looking at him.

_She was truly the bravest and most selfless person he had ever known… _

"Foolish girl!" Malivore snapped; he was now standing directly in front of them. "Do you even know what power this body holds?" he asked.

"Landon is a phoenix," she answered.

Malivore merely smirked as the monstrous crowd began to howl and screech with laughter.

"Landon was not a phoenix," Malivore sneered. "Landon was my son, my one perfect creation. His purpose was to absorb monsters."

"I don't understand," Hope answered, confusion playing across her features.

"This body doesn't physically absorb monsters like my golem form…this body absorbs the powers and abilities of other creatures!" Malivore finished with a grin.

_That was how he was able to disappear downstairs—he had already been using this body to absorb the powers of other creatures. _

Hope looked ghostly pale as she took a step backwards.

"Then Landon's phoenix powers…"

"Landon's mother killed a phoenix on her way out of this dimension. The unborn child absorbed the creature's powers," Malivore explained, a pleased look on his face.

Ryan felt like he was going to be sick.

"I don't believe you," Hope snarled.

"Care for a demonstration? I'd be more than happy to oblige…" he said as he made his way back towards the throne.

"Consider Huan," Malivore said as he approached the dragon. "All it takes is a killing blow by these hands and all of his powers will be _mine." _

Huan let out a terrible screeching sound, muffled by the muzzle around his snout—he thrashed against the chains holding him in place, but they held fast.

"You can't," Akane said from behind them. "He made the same deal I did—you swore you would never use it on us."

Ryan turned to see her expression was completely terrified… _this wasn't planned. _

Malivore ignored her as he drew the sword from behind his throne— there was no mistaking it, it was the Sword of Light. Its silver hilt shimmered and its blade glowed with a radiant, unearthly light.

Malivore raised the sword above his head, and in one smooth arc, he brought it down on Huan's neck, severing the dragon's head from his body.

He heard Akane let out a scream of anger as Hope covered her mouth in shock.

"Observe," said Malivore as he held out a hand and summoned razor sharp claws—_Huan's claws. _

"You want the powers of the tribrid," Hope said, voice small. "But I thought my powers made me a loophole to destroy you…"

"You are a loophole," Malivore answered, carrying the sword back towards them. "I was created by an alliance between witches, werewolves, and vampires, so I cannot destroy them. However you are something else—_something new." _

"I won't let you kill her!" Ryan yelled, coming between Hope and his father.

_Malivore had taken everything good from him, there was no way he would let him take Hope too. _

"You have become nothing but a nuisance! It's time for you to finally understand your place," Malivore snarled, ripping the pouch from around his neck.

_"No!"_ Hope screamed—but it was too late, Ryan watched helplessly as his father dropped the pouch containing his token to the ground and drove his sword through the center.

The world around him shattered like glass— splitting into fragments of images and fractals of light. The last thing he saw before the darkness was Hope's beautiful eyes shining with tears.

* * *

**"In ancient British folklore, Gogmagog was the leader of a race of giants which inhabited the island of Albion, which would later come to be known as Great Britain. **

**A colossal humanoid standing three times the height of a man, Gogmagog was possessed of enormous physical strength, capable of uprooting an Oak tree as if it were no more than a twig. According to the legend, he and his people lived in caves in the hilly countryside."**

* * *

(P.S. Just to put everyone's mind at ease, I'm not going to permanently kill Clarke. There is a purpose to this event, I promise! I don't want anyone to be too distraught...)


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27 **

**(Hope)**

_It all happened in slow motion—_Hope watched in horror as Malivore struck Clarke's token with the sword, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces and scatter across the floor.

"Ryan!" she screamed desperately as she watched him crumble to the ground. She felt a searing pain explode in her chest—it was as if the sword had somehow been driven through her own chest rather than the figurine's.

Hope felt her legs give out beneath her, causing her to fall to her knees.

"What have you done?" she gasped through the pain.

"What I should have done a long time ago," Malivore answered impassively, idly examining the tip of the sword.

She grit her teeth against the pain as she crawled to Clarke's side, reaching out to take his hand, hopelessly feeling for his pulse.

"It's time to fulfill your promise," she heard Akane say from behind her. "Release me from this prison," she demanded.

"Be careful how you speak to me, little fox, or you will meet the same fate as the dragon," Malivore answered, his expression darkening.

Suddenly, Hope felt a strange tingling sensation beneath her palm, accompanied by a familiar feeling of warmth.

_Ryan? _

_She couldn't bear to take on false hope… _

Akane snarled, tearing her attention away—in one swift motion, Akane bridged the distance between herself and Malivore and within the blink of an eye, six identical kitsune appeared where Akane had once stood alone.

Malivore leveled his sword at the central figure, eyes narrowing.

"Think about what you're doing," he warned. "Every one of these creatures would be eager to take your place in my good graces."

The plethora of monsters seated in the stands surrounding them grew restless at his words, chattering amongst themselves.

"Malivore has proclaimed himself king of this prison world!" Akane shouted, each version of herself speaking in unison, causing her words to echo strangely in the large space.

"He makes bargains and uses us for our abilities—but he does not keep his word! Look at what he has done to Huan!" she shouted.

Hope watched as the crowd's uncertainty seemed to increase— some creatures had begun to huddle in small groups, while others remained still and silent, watching the scene unfold.

Just then, Hope felt a faint flutter beneath her fingertips—_It felt like a heartbeat… _

Hope tentatively squeezed Clarke's hand—-_please, please, please… _

Akane began to circle Malivore, her illusions moving in perfect synchrony, making it impossible to tell which was the original.

"Enough!" Malivore sneered. "Gogmagog, seize Akane and take her to the dungeon!" he shouted.

The giant who had chained them earlier came lumbering into view—careful consideration in his eyes.

"How long have you had the sword?" the giant asked, his booming voice causing the giant stone pillars to shake.

"The sword is no longer your concern," Malivore answered sharply, a note of finality in his voice.

"The Sword of Light belongs to the giants," Gogmagog answered, his voice rising in anger.

"And yet, the Irish Hag claims it belongs to her," Malivore answered.

_An Irish hag? He must mean Gwyllion… _

Hope felt her hand being squeezed once more—she looked down to see Clarke looking up at her, a sparkle in his eye as he brought a finger to his lips.

Unbelievable relief coursed through her, thawing the icy dread that had hardened around her heart.

"Return the sword, and I will seize the prisoner," Gogmagog answered.

Akane had stopped her circling, but the illusions remained—each watching the exchange with identical curiosity.

Malivore merely tightened his grip on the sword, raising it up in challenge.

"You are in no position to make demands here," Malivore said. "And now, you will suffer the consequences—you will be drained of your powers just like the rest."

It was the wrong thing to say—At the mention of draining the giant's powers, Akane's illusions sprung into action, each aiming to wrestle the sword from Malivore's hand.

The rapidness of the attack seemed to catch Malivore off guard, causing him to lose balance and fall backwards into the giant's chest, dropping the sword in the process. The momentary falter was all it took for Akane to grab the fallen weapon.

Gogmagog reached his mighty arms around to secure Malivore, but with the help of Landon's smaller frame, Malivore easily dodged the giant, moving deftly out of reach.

In a blur of movement, Malivore swept a leg under Akane's feet, causing her to drop the sword, taking possession of it once more.

In another swift motion, Malivore spun around and plunged the sword directly into the giant's chest, causing Gogmagog to bellow out in pain before collapsing to the ground with a mighty thud.

Malivore turned to Akane, using the sword to force the now lone kitsune to her knees.

Clarke sat up slowly, accepting Hope's help to stand—Malivore had yet to notice Clarke's revival; his attention was centered squarely on Akane and the fallen giant.

"Hello, Father," Clarke said.

"I was wondering if you were going to be joining us again," Malivore said, turning to face them, not bothering to mask the anger on his face.

"I'm afraid it's not a very happy homecoming" Clarke answered.

Malivore ignored the comment, focusing his attention on her instead.

"I wonder… Do you regret it, Tribrid?" Malivore asked, regarding her carefully.

"Regret what?" she asked warily, moving to take Clarke's hand, finding comfort in his touch.

"Sharing your _soul,"_ Malivore answered, eyeing their clasped hands with open disdain.

_"What?"_ Hope and Clarke asked in unison, a feeling of shock moving between them.

Malivore laughed—the cruelty of the sound coming from what looked like Landon still deeply unsettled her.

"Did you not know?" Malivore asked. "That is an interesting twist," he added.

"What do you mean, _sharing my soul?"_ Hope asked apprehensively.

Malivore remained silent for a moment, his eyes darting between them.

"At first I wasn't sure what had happened," he began. "When I sensed your magic on my creation, I initially assumed you had merely placed him under a spell—but it wasn't until recently that I began to realize this was something different…" Malivore said.

"You knew about our connection?" Hope asked, voice small.

"I suspected," Malivore acknowledged. "However, it wasn't until I saw his revival that I realized how deeply it ran…"

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying her best to ignore the many hostile eyes watching the exchange from the stands.

"Golems are fashioned as empty vessels to serve their creator. Our existence, our very _life force_, is bound to the material from which we were created—we do not possess internal souls," Malivore answered.

"It's an external life force…housed in the token," she reasoned. "But you destroyed Clarke's token," Hope added, her confusion mounting.

She turned to look at Clarke, but he seemed just as perplexed as she was.

"The token was destroyed, which should have meant the end of his existence. However, it seems that, through your unorthodox entry into this dimension and the sharing of blood, you have given my son a new source of life—" Malivore explained.

Hope noticed Clarke begin to fidget beside her, clearly unsettled by Malivore's words.

"You have shared your soul, your very essence with him, allowing him to survive the destruction of his token," Malivore finished.

_"Hope,"_ Clarke murmured, looking down to meet her gaze. "I didn't know—I never meant to take anything from you, certainly not willingly," he said softly.

His sincerity flowed through their connection—a connection that suddenly made so much more sense. _This_ was the reason they could share thoughts and emotions, _this_ is why they were able to share one another's abilities—they were sharing a life force, _a soul. _

"I know," she whispered, feeling a shared sense of understanding pass between them.

"How touching," Malivore said as he pulled the sword from Gogmagog's chest, wiping the giant's dark, oily blood on his pant leg.

Beneath its bloody sheen, she noticed that the sword seemed to flicker oddly in Malivore's hand— a moment later, she noticed that an identical sword now rested in Akane's lap, just as bloody as the first.

Oblivious to Akane, Malivore stomped his foot, causing the rock to shake and crack beneath him—a display of the giant's strength he now possessed; he smiled with self-satisfaction.

A moment later, everything changed…

* * *

**(Ryan)**

Ryan cursed inwardly—his father now possessed the powers of a dragon, a giant, and an unknown number of other supernaturals' abilities.

If the monsters in the chamber remained loyal to him, there was no way that they would make it out of here alive.

He looked over to Hope, his heart overflowing—he now shared a life force with the most courageous, intelligent, and beautiful woman he had ever met. He owed her everything and he wanted more than anything to have the opportunity to give it to her…

As Malivore flagrantly showed off new abilities, he noticed Hope's attention waver—she was watching Akane.

The kitsune was now approaching Malivore from behind with a sword identical to the one in his father's grip…

"Hope!" he shouted— If Akane killed Malivore in this form, Landon's body would die too. A look of understanding dawned on her face as she shouted for Akane to stop.

Malivore spun around, meeting his sword's twin in midair—the resounding clang echoed through the chamber, sending the crowd of creatures into an uproar.

"What do we do?" Hope asked him desperately, watching the pair exchange blows.

Before he had a chance to answer, Akane slipped in the growing puddle of the giant's blood, causing her to fall to her knees.

Malivore wasted no time in bringing his sword down upon the helpless Akane, cutting straight through her neck—but as the sword made contact, Akane vanished along with the sword in Malivore's hand.

_She had been an illusion—and so were the swords! _

Malivore screamed in frustration, his anger radiating in waves.

"Turn around," a voice said behind him—he and Hope turned to find Akane standing there, sword in hand. With expert precision, she slashed the sword through the chains binding himself and Hope.

Before he could thank her, Akane dropped the sword and ran, disappearing out the chamber's mighty doors.

Ryan grabbed the sword, the _real_ sword, from where it had fallen and spun to meet his father's furious gaze.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Malivore threatened, looking completely unhinged.

"You know destroying this body will kill the boy, and your little _soulmate_, wouldn't like that," he snarled.

Although he used the term as an insult, Ryan couldn't help the thrill he felt at hearing Hope referred to as his soulmate…there was something about it that felt so right.

But his father had a point—he wouldn't kill Landon in front of her; they would have to find another way out.

_"Vados!"_ Hope shouted, sending a blast of spell energy towards Malivore.

His father merely smiled as the energy wave bounced harmlessly off of him, not even moving him an inch.

In a flash, Malivore reached out and grabbed Hope by the throat, lifting her off of the ground as if she weighed no more than a rag doll.

"Hope!" he screamed with such ferocity that his throat burned; he could feel her pain and desperation, the feeling threatened to consume him completely.

"Token," her voice rang through his mind, a secret message passed between them.

_Of course_—the only way to destroy his father without killing Landon was to destroy his father's token…

He watched helplessly as Hope's body began to grow limp, her eyes fluttering shut under his father's merciless grip.

There was only one way to stop this—his decision was made.

He broke into a run, sword in hand, making his way to the throne at the center of the room. He had known his father for centuries; the only place he would have felt safe keeping his token was on his person—he must have absorbed it, just as he had done to all of the monsters he jailed.

Malivore must have realized his intention, because he heard the sound of furious footsteps behind him.

But it didn't matter—he would be too late. Ryan had already arrived at his father's original body, the sword poised above the golem's empty body.

"STOP—I created you!" Malivore screamed. "You owe me _everything!"_ he shouted.

Ryan looked behind Malivore at Hope's limp body laying on the chamber floor, feeling a terrible sense of calm flow through him.

"No," Ryan answered, tears now flowing. "You may have created me, but I don't owe you anything. I will never serve you again," he said.

"You were always worthless," Malivore hissed.

"You're wrong," Ryan answered. "But now you'll never live long enough to see everything I can do," he answered, plunging the sword deep into the golem's body.

For a terrible moment, he feared he may have been wrong about the token's location, but as soon as he pulled the sword from the golem's body he watched as Landon's body collapsed.

Ryan approached his brother cautiously, keeping the sword in hand in case something had gone wrong…

"Clarke?" Landon asked, blinking up at him. "Where the hell are we?" he asked.

Ryan let out the breath he had been holding, helping him to his feet.

"We have to help Hope!" he shouted as he rushed to her side, unwilling to spare a moment more than necessary from her side.

The monsters surrounding them were causing a terrible commotion, clearly surprised by the sudden turn of events.

"Hope!" he shouted, falling to his knees by her side. She was terribly pale and still, the sight alone felt like enough to kill him.

"What happened?" Landon asked, kneeling down next to him. "What can we do?" he asked helplessly.

"She's not gone," a voice said from behind them.

Ryan turned over his shoulder, brandishing the sword in defense—it was Gwyllion.

"Gwyllion," he greeted her, not bothering to hide the tears flowing down his cheeks.

"It seems the prophecy has come to pass," she observed passively. "A soul once split is now shared willingly… And a Sword of Light has cut through the darkness," she added, pointing a bony finger to the weapon in his hand.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"To retrieve what is mine," Gwyllion answered.

_The sword… _

"Here," Ryan said, tossing the sword to the ground at her feet. "I don't need it anymore," he choked out.

"Call her home," Gwyllion advised.

* * *

**(Hope) **

_Was this death?_

Hope stood outside of a large, wooden door fit into the side of a mighty cliffside. The door was at least three times her height and intricately carved with mighty warriors, animals, and intricate runes.

She was so taken with the carvings that she didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

"Hello, Hope Mikaelson," a female voice greeted her.

Hope turned without fear—somehow she knew that whoever stood there would mean her no harm.

A beautiful woman stood there with pale skin, piercing blue eyes, and radiant golden hair; she was clothed in beautiful armor with an elegant cape of raven feathers drawn around her shoulders. She was crowned with a helmet of shining silver that gave off an ethereal light.

"Who are you?" Hope asked, awed by the woman's obvious beauty and power.

"I am one of the Valkyrie," she answered, drawing closer. "And this is the entrance to Valhalla," she explained.

_Valhalla—_ _the hall of slain Viking warriors… _

"Your warrior blood has drawn me to your soul, child," she said softly.

"So I'm dead?" Hope asked, feeling the first pang of distress since she arrived.

"Not yet," the Valkyrie answered. "You still seem to be connected to the land of the living," she added, pointing to her hand.

Hope looked down, noticing a red ribbon tied around her wrist… a very familiar red ribbon— _Clarke! _

Hope felt a sudden tug at the ribbon as if someone was pulling on the other end.

"Yes, it seems a part of your soul still calls you back," the Valkyrie said with a smile. "You may choose to enter the hall of warriors, or you may return to the mortal world for now," she added.

"I—" Hope began.

"Before you decide, I have a message for you," the Valkyrie said.

Hope nodded, uncertain of what it could possibly be…

"One of the warriors in Odin's hall has asked me to tell you that he wishes his littlest wolf a long and joyous life and that he will be watching over you," the Valkyrie said with a soft smile.

_Littlest Wolf… _it was her father.

Hope let out a surprised laugh, feeling her eyes begin to grow misty. He was here—_ her father made it into the hall of warriors! _

"He's here?" she asked. "My father, he's on the other side of that door?" she asked, feeling her heart pound.

The Valkyrie merely nodded.

Just then, she felt another tug at the ribbon around her wrist.

"What is your choice?" the warrior woman asked.

Hope looked down at the ribbon and gave it a tentative tug of her own—immediately she felt an answering pull on the other end.

"I think…I need to go back, for now," she answered.

The Valkyrie nodded, a knowing look in her eye.

* * *

A heartbeat later, Hope opened her eyes to a completely different scene— she was laying on the floor of Malivore's chamber with Clarke's tearstained face hovering above her.

"Ryan," she whispered, reaching up to touch his face.

"Hope," he breathed. "You came back to me…" he smiled down at her.

"What happened?" she asked, sitting up as she surveyed the many monsters and creatures now wandering the chamber floor.

"Malivore has been defeated," a familiar voice answered.

"Landon!" she exclaimed. "Is it really you?" she asked, accepting Clarke's assistance to stand.

"In the flesh," he joked, giving her a wink.

"But how?" she asked, turning to Clarke.

"It turns out my big brother isn't such a douche after all," Landon answered, giving Clarke a small smile.

"Gee, thanks," Clarke answered.

Hope laughed— "So it worked, you got my message about the token?" she asked.

"Yes," Clarke answered. "It seems we have a lot of abilities to work out, soulmate," he answered with a smile.

Landon shot her a confused look, but Hope simply laughed. "It seems we all have a lot to catch up on…" she said.

"It's good to see you again, little one," a croaking voice said from behind her—it was Gwyllion.

"Gwyllion—you got your sword back," Hope said, noticing the weapon in the fae's hand.

"Indeed, and I think it's time to return home, don't you think?" the ancient woman asked, smiling to reveal her many crooked teeth.

Hope looked to Clarke and Landon standing next to her, both alive, both _safe. _

"Yes, I think it's time," she agreed.

Gwyllion smiled as she took the sword in hand and murmured something over the blade— within moments, the blade began to glow with a powerful white light that was nearly blinding.

With a flourish, Gwyllion swept the sword through the air cutting what appeared to be a portal in the center of the chamber.

"This will provide safe passage back to your dimension," Gwyllion answered. "But I'm afraid I must allow my fellow creatures to leave as well," she added.

As she spoke the words, the many monsters and creatures present began to make their way to the glowing portal, drawn like moths to a flame.

"I understand," Hope answered as she watched the many creatures of myth and lore make their way into their dimension.

"Until next time," Gwyllion answered, stepping through the portal herself.

"I better get going," Landon said, "I need to let Dr. Saltzman know what's happened and warn him about the...uh, influx," he said nodding to the parade of monsters exiting Malivore's dimension.

"Go see Josie," Hope said with a smile.

She watched a blush creep across Landon's cheeks as he nodded his thanks and stepped through the portal.

"Ryan," she turned to him, taking his hands in her own. "I felt you calling me home," she said.

He smiled down at her gently. "You chose to come home," he said, bringing her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

She felt her heart flutter at the gesture, a blush of her own rising up her neck. She couldn't deny this feeling anymore…

"Ryan, I will always choose you," she said softly. "I don't know how it happened, but you have me, heart and soul," she said with a laugh at the irony.

She took a deep breath before looking up into his eyes.

"Ryan Clarke, I'm in love with you too," she said, finding herself grinning as she said the words.

She felt as much as witnessed his pure surprise and joy as he wrapped his arms around her pulling her as close as possible.

She returned the gesture, relishing in the feeling of his heartbeat so close and comforting. A moment later, he pulled back slightly looking deep into her eyes.

"I don't know how I ended up on this journey with you," he began. "But I want you to know that you have healed me, Hope Mikaelson. You have made me a better man and I will spend the rest of my life giving you everything I am."

She smiled up at him—he was hers and she was his, a partner in the truest sense.

He leaned down, pressing his lips softly to hers— she could feel his love rushing through their connection, warming her inside and out. She smiled into the kiss, deepening it as he rested his hands on the small of her back, pulling her closer.

As they broke the kiss, she looked over to the portal beckoning them home.

"What do you say, Agent Clarke? Follow the leader?" she asked with a smirk.

"I'd follow you anywhere," he said with a smile, taking her hand as they stepped through the portal together.

THE END.

* * *

**"Valkyrie, also spelled Walkyrie, Old Norse Valkyrja ("Chooser of the Slain"), in Norse mythology, any of a group of maidens who served the god Odin and were sent by him to the battlefields to choose the slain who were worthy of a place in Valhalla. These foreboders of war rode to the battlefield on horses, wearing helmets and shields; in some accounts, they flew through the air and sea. Some Valkyries had the power to cause the death of the warriors they did not favor; others, especially heroine Valkyries, guarded the lives and ships of those dear to them. Old Norse literature made references to purely supernatural Valkyries and also to human Valkyries with certain supernatural powers. Both types of beings were associated with fairness, brightness, and gold, as well as bloodshed."**

A/N:

Hello beloved readers,

We have come to the end of the story. This is such a bittersweet thing to post! This is the first fanfiction I have ever written and I have had the most phenomenal time.

I am so deeply thankful for every single one of you and I don't know if I could ever properly express how much your comments and support have meant to me! I hope to write many more stories, so I hope you will join me in the future!

Please leave me your thoughts, whether you are reading this as soon as it was published or many years from now... This story will always hold a special place in my heart and I hope that many people will continue to enjoy it!

Love you guys, always!


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